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uhohnotthisagain · 7 months

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My Everything- Dean Winchester

Summary: Dean’s anger gets the best of him.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, verbal fighting, mentions of death (no actual death is included), sad Dean, sad reader, happy ending

Word count: 1.2k

My Masterlist

“I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this.” Dean says, sitting on the edge of your shared bed, rubbing his face with his hands.

You look at him with shock. “What? What do you mean?” The two of you had been fighting for the last 2 hours. You had made a decision on a hunt that had put you in danger, saving Dean from the witch in the process.

“This. Putting up with all this stupidity. It’s infuriating.”

“Are you actually serious? I saved you from that witch. You’d be dead if I hadn’t done what I did.”

“No, I wouldn’t be. I would’ve been fine. But throwing yourself into the fire was a stupid decision. If I hadn’t reacted fast enough, YOU would be dead.” He points at you as he speaks, the look of absolute anger on his face.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve done something stupid on a hunt, and if it keeps going, then who knows what will happen. Maybe I could be killed.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I’m done. This is over.”

“You don’t really mean that.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“No, I do, I’m done. Get out.” He’s turned away from you, looking at something on his laptop at his desk.

Tears sit at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill. He didn’t turn to look at you, refusing to face you.

“Fine.”

–

You let out small sobs, curling into yourself. You were lying on the bed in your old room. It was yours when you first moved into the bunker, but when you and Dean started dating and spending every night together, you stopped sleeping in the room. It wasn’t long before you moved all your stuff to Dean’s, making this room feel foreign and empty. Cold.

You eventually fell asleep, tears staining your cheeks.

–

Dean didn’t sleep at all. He spent the whole night either hunched over his laptop, distracting himself with research, or staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t want you to leave, he wanted you back. All he could focus on during the fight was his anger towards your decisions. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t lose you. And putting yourself at risk meant that he couldn’t protect you as easily, making him more scared that he would lose yet another loved one.

He felt so useless during hunts. He knew you could make your own decisions. Smart ones too. But you also made decisions that would save Dean, and Dean didn’t want that.

Dean got up at 6:30, deciding to get ready for the day and search for another potential hunt to distract himself with.

It was at 10:30 when he realised you hadn’t gotten up yet. Sam was already up, having gone for a run and now researching with Dean. You always were an early riser.

Dean went searching, hoping you were in the bunker and hadn’t left in the middle of the night. He passed the kitchen, not seeing you sipping on a coffee that you usually did. He passed your shared room before stopping at your old one.

He listened to see if he could hear you, but what he heard broke his heart. He could hear your muffled sobs.

You had woken up not long after falling asleep, struggling to stay asleep without Dean next to you. The both of you relied on one another to have nightmare-free sleep, and it had become such a habit that when separated it felt impossible to function.

When you woke up, you quickly recalled why you were back in your old room, breaking your heart all over again. You struggled to keep the tears at bay. You felt guilty, but you weren’t sure why. You were upset that you couldn’t convince Dean that you knew what you were doing. Angry that he wouldn’t listen to you. Broken that he had kicked you out without letting you speak.

A soft knock disrupted your thoughts. You looked towards the door, hoping that if you kept silent, whoever was at the door would leave.

“Y/N? I know you’re in there.” Dean’s voice was soft, it’s what usually kept you calm, but this time, it was making your heart race. “Y/N? Please, sweetheart. Let me in.” He knocked again.

You considered hiding under your duvet but decided against that. Instead, you stood up and opened the door.

“Oh, Sweetheart, thank god. I’m so-” You walked passed him, brushing against him but you didn’t make eye contact. You walked towards the kitchen, grabbing a mug and pouring yourself some coffee before sitting at the bench, staring at the dark liquid in your mug.

“Sweetheart? Y/n? Please talk to me. I’m so sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” You didn’t turn around. “Please. I miss your voice. Talk to me. Scream at me. Yell. Throw things. I don’t care. I just need you to talk to me.” You said nothing.

“Okay, if you won’t talk then at least hear me out? I’m sorry honey. I really am. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I shouldn’t have said those things.” Dean walked around to the other side of the bench to face you, but you didn’t look up at him. “You have every right to be upset with me. I know you can hold you’re own. I know you’re capable of looking after yourself, fighting the things we hunt for. You’re so talented and strong. It’s just- I’m scared, okay? I said it. I can’t save you. I can’t protect you. And it has nothing to do with you’re abilities. I’m just so scared to lose you. What if something gets you? What if something is just that much stronger that you can’t fight it. I can’t lose you. I need you.” Dean’s holding your hands, causing you to look up slightly.

“I can’t sleep without you. I can barely survive if you’re not there. I can’t breathe. You’re my everything, and if I lose you, then I have nothing. So forgive me for trying to protect you, but knowing you’re safe means everything.”

You look up at Dean, sighing before opening your mouth. “Have you considered that you’re my everything? That if I lose you then I would lose myself? I love you so much, and I would do anything to keep you safe.” Your voice wobbled as tears filled your eyes again. “You can be so reckless on hunts. God knows how many times I have had to clean up you’re injuries, sew you up, bandage you up. Of course, I would do it again but if you keep risking your life, then one day you’re going to lose it. And then what happens to me? I would die if I lost you.”

Dean walks around to you, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t consider how much I meant to you. I’ll try and be better. I’ll make better decisions, I’ll try to be safe. If you do. You need to not put your life on the line all the time to save me.” Your arms wrap around him.

“Yeah, okay. I’m sorry too.” He smiles before pressing a kiss to your lips.

#sam winchester #supernatural imagines #dean winchester #supernatural #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader #dean angst #supernatural angst #angst #happy ending #dean #sad #spn imagine #spn fanfic

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dangerousduckcloud · 3 months

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Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

Tears were dampening the blanket you didn’t remember covering yourself with, a hitch on your breath that turned into sobbing. Yesterday you hadn’t reacted at all, a part of you hoping this was some game show you’d been dragged to. Today, you now knew were kidnapped by the weirdest people whom you still didn’t know what they wanted to do to you.

Chapter 2 < > Chapter 4

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog

The exhaustion of the whole day had started to take its toll on you; no matter how much your body wanted to lay down on the flat weight bench you were sitting on in the training area —or drag yourself all the way to the beds in the medbay— you forced yourself to keep awake.

So far, they hadn’t tried to do anything to you, sometimes so caught up in whatever they were researching for in the computer that they wouldn’t even spare a glance towards you. You’re sure they probably even forgot about your existence for a whole hour. A whole hour you could’ve used to catch up in some sleep.

But you didn’t want to give them the chance to hurt you so easily. The tight suits didn’t hide much, specially Nigthwing’s, so anyone who saw him for a second could notice he was someone who exercised regularly.

Red Robin’s suit wasn’t as tight as Dick’s, the material sturdier around the torso and the legs, but his bare arms were the arms of someone who could lift heavy weights.

The two combined, your chances of fighting your way out were slim, probably non-existent.

If you didn’t have something to defend yourself with, of course. When they’d become too engrossed on the functions of the weapon, you casually strode inside the medbay, grabbing another bottle of water and slowly drinking from it.

Once both had their backs towards you, you quickly stored a scalpel on your hoodie’s pocket, hoping you wouldn’t need it.

They were probably the most chill and/or stupid kidnappers you’ve ever heard off, as they hadn’t even thought to tie you up and throw you into what seemed to be a holding cell of some sort. Had they forgotten to do that, or was it just for decoration?

Either way, you weren’t complaining.

But now you were frazzled and bored out of your mind, slightly pinching the tip of the scalpel every second or so to keep you up, but not strong enough to hurt your thumb.

Had anyone even noticed your disappearance? It had been… Seven, eight hours since you woke up on the floor? And how long were you passed out before that? There was no one waiting for you home, not even a cat, right now regretting moving from your hometown to start anew.

With a day off tomorrow —or was it today, already?— and no plans to go out during the weekend, it was likely people wouldn’t notice your abduction until Monday when you didn’t turned up for work.

Two whole days and no one would notice.

You chose to pretend the tear drop making its way down your cheek had appeared from your continuous yawning and nothing else.

“Yeah, but the coordinates were the same as here, however there’s this number—” A loud crash woke you up and cut off Tim’s sentence. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” The sleep had overcome you, your body bit by bit nodding off until you hit the dumbbell rack, knocking the less heavy ones. “I tripped.”

“You tripped.” Dick said, expressionless. “While sitting.”

“I can be quite clumsy.”

“Jane, if you’re tired, you’re free to sleep on one of the beds.” Dick mentioned, his right hand directed towards them.

“I’m alright, I—”

“You’re safe here.” And that blasted smile again confused your sleep-clouded mind, a part of you wanted to trust him, but this was all so weird there was no way they didn’t want to do anything to you. “I promise.”

But they’d also been acting nice to you, like true vigilantes trying to help a civilian in need. And you still didn’t know what they would do if you stopped playing their game. So, with a lackluster nod, you laid down on the bed, fighting the sleep once you heard hushed voices.

“She’s weird.” Tim whispered.

“What?”

“She’s so…” Silence for a couple of seconds, most likely the boy trying to find the right words. “Composed. I don’t get it. She’s not acting like someone who got dragged to another universe.”

“It happens sometimes. When people suffer something traumatic, they go into shock, sometimes not registering what’s going on, and acting as if all is well. Take it as… As if she’s on autopilot.”

A low hum was heard, the tinkering of tools acting as white noise to help you sleep. “But still, the way she looks at us… Don’t you feel as if she’s hiding something? Could she be related to whatever those people did to B?”

“I don’t know, baby bird.” With a doleful voice, Dick replied, noting the weight of the world on his shoulders at the man remembering the disappearance of his ‘father’. “We’ll find out. But we must get her someplace else, she can’t stay here. Maybe we could…”

With heavy eyelids dropping, you couldn’t hear what he was thinking on doing. Maybe you should’ve tried your best to stay up, to learn if they were a threat to you, but you were too jaded to even care at this point.

_____

You promised yourself last week would’ve been the last time you’d be up all-night reading. Of course, like most vows as this one, you did it again this week, going so far that you even had the most conscious dream about being in the batcave.

It was a good dream though, you’ll admit. Maybe you could try and turn it into a fanfic of your own.

With a lazy hand fishing around for your phone on the nightstand, you forced one eye opened when no matter how high your hand went up you couldn’t even feel the edge of the bedside table. That was because there wasn’t any furniture next to you, instead what resembled a hospital bed a meter away from you.

Did something happen to you?

“You’re awake.” Startled, you turned around towards the voice, the same masked guy from your dreams standing in front of you, a food tray on his hands, and a sheepish smile on his face. “I brought you some food. Sometimes it’s easy to forget normal people eat three times a day.”

“It… wasn’t a dream?”

“No, I’m sorry.” Dick’s smile turned feeble, dragging a wheeled metal table to put down the food tray. “But I promise we’re doing everything we can to get you back home.”

Today, you now knew were kidnapped by the weirdest people whom you still didn’t know what they wanted to do to you.

The scalpel still hidden on your pocket felt heavy with every breath, would it be wise to use it right now? There was no sign of Tim anywhere, and even though you hadn’t seen any of them use the hidden door that should lead to Bruce’s study in the manor, there had to be a way out of here.

As inconspicuous as you could, you hand wandered over the blanket until it disappeared inside the pocket, fingers hovering over the handle.

“Jane?” The soft voice brought you to your senses, white lenses looking at you, gloved hands moving up and down your arms, hands that your mind wanted far away, but your body needed them there, closer. “I know, I know. But it’s going to be alright, you have my word.”

He was so close, unaware of your arms, so focused on your face he wouldn’t notice if you stabbed him on the back.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Why don’t you eat? There’s something I need to tell you.” He pulled away, taking with him your opportunity to escape. However, all thoughts disappeared once he plucked the lid over the tray, the wonderful smell invading your nose, a plate of pasta and meat waiting for you. “It’s vegan meat. You looked tired and we didn’t want to wake you up, so we went for the safest option. My youngest brother doesn’t eat meat, so most of our meals are made with this. I can attest it’s good, in case you’re not vegan.”

Your stomach rumbled, and so you took a bite, relishing on the flavors and the seasoning used on the food. Was this Alfred’s legendary cooking?

Of course not, Alfred didn’t exist.

“I don’t think you wanted to tell me about your brother.” With a croaky voice, you spoke after several bites. Dick chuckled, sitting on a wheeled chair.

“You’re right.” He had his elbows resting on his knees, a hand covering his mouth. He kept looking to your left, mulling over his words. “You can’t stay here”

The pasta curled around the fork dropped to the plate at your sudden stop, cutlery halfway to your mouth.

“What?”

“The cave is not the safest place for a civilian to be. Not to mention the lack of privacy.”

You couldn’t argue against that, the only shower here was in a locker room, a simple curtain shielding you from wandering eyes, you didn’t accept Dick’s offer at a shower after seeing it, now feeling uncomfortable with the grime accumulating on you.

“Where… Where would I go?”

“We have… A friend, his name is Bruce Wayne, he can take you in while we sort this out. He has a daughter around your age, she could bring a sense of normalcy during this time.”

With the way he’s talking about ‘Bruce’, you doubt he’ll just walk you up the stairs into the manor, so they’ll have to take you out the cave to get there, giving you another opportunity to escape.

“He’ll just… Let me stay there?” You kept up the game. “For no reason?”

“He has a history of taking in strays” He said with a fond smile. “He’s always available to help people.”

Something didn’t seem right to you. If they believed you were from some other universe, why bother with trying to protect Bruce’s identity? If they believed you were from some other universe, you shouldn’t even know who he was. If he’s ‘gone’, there’s no point on telling you about some guy you’ll never get to meet.

“Shouldn’t…” You lick your lips, what you were about to say next could turn things ugly. Make them show their true selves. “Isn’t this something the police should deal with?”

Eyes frowning, smile dropping, stance rigid, tension around you both; that’s what you were expecting to happen, but he only scratched his nose, unbothered.

“They’re not the most prepared to deal with this kind of things. You know, otherworldly stuff.” You sighed, glad he didn’t turn violent; however, he must’ve mistaken it for hopelessness. “But I can assure you, we know what we’re doing.”

“How will we get there? To Mr. Wayne’s house.”

“That’s the best part.” He stood up, and with a move of his chin asked you to follow him.

Out the medbay and into a circular platform from which you couldn’t see anything due to being extremely dark, Dick walked to a wall, flipping up a switch, turning on the lights overhead the platform.

And under the lights as if in a museum display, was the batmobile.

#jason todd #the red hood #redhood #red hood #x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #batman #dick grayson #robin #batfam #tim drake #bruce wayne #nightwing #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x fem!reader

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actuallyadhd · 11 months

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hello! i just saw your recent post about procrastination as a learned behavior and had a "....oh." moment after doing a bit of research. i thought things would be fixed when i got on meds, and they weren't. i started realizing that the reason i confused executive dysfunction and procrastination was because dysfunction made me start to think "well, i know i'm not going to get this done, so i might as well not try" and i started pushing things to the side. this felt a lot better short term, but it's not sustainable. i'm stressed all the time, and double stressed because i can't figure out how to stop.

i've been trying to figure out a way to get myself to just do things, but i don't know how, and knowing that it's a learned behavior helps me a lot, because now i know it's possible to unlearn it. do you have any advice? thank you.

Sent October 4, 2023

I'm so glad this helped you reframe your procrastination! I know how much it can help to realize that it might be possible to change things that feel impossible to change.

There are a number of different ways to deal with procrastination. I just learned a new method that I'm going to try, called the "Solve-It Grid", that has you categorize the things you need to do based on how they make you feel. What I like about this method is that it emphasizes how much ADHDers rely on how we feel to get us through the day, and it can help us get things done by getting us to consider how we feel and how the tasks will make us feel. The idea is that if we match our tasks to how we feel, things will be easier overall.

I linked above to the article on ADDitude about it, but I actually first heard about it on YouTube, via the channel Minimalist Home (link to video). I've been trying to use the TickTick app on my phone, but I find it really anxiety-inducing to have all these scheduled tasks telling me I didn't do them.

TickTick has an Eisenhower Matrix section, and I'd tried personalizing it using a slightly different method from the usual, but it wasn't quite as helpful as I'd hoped due to the due date issue. So now I've redone it and changed the requirements for each quadrant based on the Solve-It Grid. I'll try to remember to update you on how it's working out. (If you decide to try TickTick and would like help personalizing the Eisenhower Matrix section like I did, let me know and I'll see if I can make a video showing how.)

Several years ago, I read the book The Procrastination Equation, by Piers Steel. It was really good and had lots of interesting information in it. He talks about the different reasons people procrastinate and how to deal with each reason. He never hits on the whole executive dysfunction/ADHD part of it that affects us, but I found that if I applied his methods half the battle was done. As in, the ADHD part was still an issue, but the non-ADHD part was dealt with. Because as much as we all like to pretend that ADHD is the problem, the fact is that we aren't just ADHD. We have lots of other stuff going on in our heads, and those impact our functioning as well. I took loads of notes and am happy to share what I learned in a dedicated post if people are interested. (I thought I might have posted it already but I can't find it, and my notes are on my personal LJ so I can copy them over easy.)

-J

#adhd #actually adhd #asks #anonymous #procrastination

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maraschinomerry · 1 year

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Hi! Ive really enjoyed your Lockwood and Co fic’s so far, especially how you incorporate gn-readers! As for a prompt to give: A George Karin X GN Reader fic where George works himself sick on researching a case and no one else really notices he’s sick other than Reader, and Reader makes him stop and takes care of him for the night. A quote to go along with this maybe: “No one ever cared about me like you.” There’s really not enough George fics out there, so thank you for rectifying that!

Chicken Soup

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Content: literally just 99% fluff, the other 1% is reader misunderstanding when George tries to confess his feelings

A/N: this fic takes me to less than 1000 words off having posted 30,000 words in 4 weeks 🤯 will have to see if I can post another later!

Word count: 2.1k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear

George looked tired.

He usually looked at least a little worn out, so you weren't overly surprised, but this time it was more distinctive. Plus, his exhaustion was always paradoxically frantic, brought about by rushing to prepare for a case that needed solving yesterday, but this time Lockwood had specifically said nobody was going anywhere near the site until you and George were confident there was no more research to be done. You'd hoped that would mean George would take his time, but it seemed his brain had forgotten how to function in any way that wasn't cramming 3 days' worth of research into 3 hours.

"Let's call it a day," you prompted. The two of you had been glued to your seats around a stack of papers in the Archives all day and your back was getting horrendously stiff. George couldn't be faring much better, hunched so far over his book he practically disappeared into his orange plaid shirt.

"You head back, I just need a bit longer to finish off," he replied, not even glancing up. Under normal circumstances, you'd be able to use his frustration at the impossible deadline to lure him away, but what on earth were you supposed to say when it was self-inflicted?

"Are you sure? Lockwood did say to take as long as we need, so it can wait until morning."

George looked up then, only to shake his head. You knew what he was thinking: by tomorrow, the book he needed could have been borrowed by someone else; by tomorrow, Kipps' crew could have swanned in and solved the whole case; by tomorrow, there may not be anyone at the site left to employ them. You sighed.

"Sorry, I know it's a pain. Will you be okay getting home alone?" Trust him to be worrying about you when you were worrying about him. You assured him you'd be fine, and promised to have a cup of tea ready when he got home.

"You're the best," he said with a weary smile. Secretly he didn't want you to leave, he enjoyed your company, but it was unfair to make you stay just because he wanted to. As you walked away, you heard him sniff, which built into a sneeze. Hmm.

—

Less than ten minutes after you returned to Portland Row, the heavens opened. Rain hammered against the front door like it was begging to be let in, and wind whistled through every corner it could find from the attic downwards.

You, Lucy and Lockwood sat around the dining table, soaking in every ounce of the warmth that seeped from the oven while dinner cooked (a steak pie you'd made when you got back, to distract yourself from the anxious knot in your stomach).

"How did it go at the Archives?" Lucy asked over a steaming cup of coffee.

"We're making progress, but I'm worried George is overworking himself."

Lockwood gave a wry chuckle. "Trust me, if George has a limit, I haven't seen him hit it in all the time I've known him."

That wasn't overly convincing - having bursts of intense hard work followed by a couple of days to recover was one thing, but working flat out for this long was another, especially when you knew from hearing the way the house shifted that he hadn't been sleeping.

"He was sneezing when I left," you pointed out. If Lockwood knew him so well, he'd know he wasn't much of a sneezer, even in the height of pollen season.

"This case dates back decades," Lucy countered. "Imagine how much dust is on some of those files." Just thinking about it made her nose crinkle. You could only hope they were both right.

—

A long-cold cup of tea and the remaining quarter of the pie awaited George when he returned, the last embers of daylight being snuffed out by the heavy rainclouds above. The second the key rattled in the front door, you sprang from where you'd been falling asleep on the Thinking Cloth and clicked the kettle on.

"You didn't wait up for me, did you?" George croaked from the kitchen doorway. Something had happened to his voice in the hours since you'd left him.

"I promised you tea!" As you turned in mock outrage you noticed something else wrong. He was shivering and pale. Instinctively, you stepped closer, brushing a hand across the droplets on his shoulders and spotting more in his hair. Had he walked home in this weather? No. There wasn't enough water for that. This was just from the cab to the door. He wasn't shivering from the cold. You suddenly remembered the sneeze earlier.

George was ill.

This was a disaster, and it was all your fault. You should have forced him to come home with you. Should have noticed sooner and never let him out today in the first place.

"Oh Georgie," you murmured, almost as much to yourself as him. "Give me one minute with that tea and then you need to get to bed."

"I'm f-fine," he stammered around chattering teeth. "It's nothing."

As if he'd been summoned as backup, Lockwood sauntered in on his way to the basement. "Glad to see you missed the rain," he joked. George gave another sneeze, a spray of said rain flying from his curls with the force of it. "Bathroom's free if you want a bath to warm up." Misguided as Lockwood was in his reason for the advice, it wasn't a bad idea actually.

"I'm just heading up," you shot him a grateful look before George could object, "I can set it running." Lockwood grinned and disappeared. Today was not one of his observant days, it seemed.

"I can run my own bath," George grumbled, still in the doorway, but his cheeks flushed a little and he made no move to stop you. Probably because his hands were shaking so much he would have struggled to even turn the taps. You took his freshly brewed tea in one hand and his arm in the other and guided him to the library to cosy up until the bath was ready.

—

Half an hour later, you were debating whether to go and make sure George hadn't fallen asleep in the tub when he emerged. His dark curls were damp yet fluffy from the towel, a slight glow had returned to his skin and he was dressed in the clean pyjamas you'd looked out for him. He frowned at you as best his tired muscles would allow, pondering the fact you'd clearly spent the entire time sitting on the bottom step outside the bathroom. Before he could comment, however, the warmth of the bath began to wear off and the tremble returned to his bones. You reached behind you and sheepishly held out a fuzzy forest green bundle.

"I, um… I couldn't find any of your jumpers, I think they're all in the wash, so you can borrow this one. It should fit."

George took hold of it and unfolded what turned out to be the softest hoodie he'd ever felt in his life. He wriggled into it, his one working nostril breathing in the way the smell of you lingered in the fabric. It was so comfy that he found himself burrowing into it, bringing it up under his chin and tucking his hands into the sleeves.

You caught yourself staring at him, marvelling over how he could look so adorable in such an unfortunate situation, and gave him a soft smile. "Better?"

He nodded and mumbled out a "thanks" which ended up somewhat drowned in the hoodie as he shuffled away. Halfway through his bedroom door, he stopped and turned back to you. "What's that?"

You went to see what he was referring to, hands on his shoulders to support yourself as you pressed close on tiptoes to peer past him. Suddenly very aware of how close you were, you focused your attention on the flask on his bedside table.

"Oh. It's chicken soup. I wasn't sure if you'd want it just yet, so I used a flask which should keep it warm for the next few hours."

If you hadn't been aware of how much you were in George's personal space before, you certainly were now as he practically melted against you.

"That's so thoughtful." He sounded shocked. Not at you being thoughtful towards him, at anyone being so. Unsure of what to say, you gave his shoulders a supportive squeeze and then used them to steer him towards his bed.

His room was a little chilly, so you checked that his window was properly closed before drawing the curtains. George, energy almost completely drained, flopped onto the bed. You helped him tuck his legs under the duvet, bringing it up around his chest. He sniffled again, and without a word you nudged the box of tissues you'd found and set out for him. His eyes grew wide and incredulous, suddenly scrunching shut with another bout of sneezing.

"Do you need anything else?"

The sneezing paused. "I think I left my book in the library…"

"Georgie, no." Your voice became stern even as you used his nickname affectionately. "No more research until you're feeling better." He began to protest. "Think about it. The more you rest, the sooner you'll recover and the quicker you can get back to it." He couldn't argue with logic, and you both knew it.

You ended up fetching him a glass of water, some paracetamol and a couple of contraband biscuits. When you returned, you found him sipping the soup, and his face lit up at your last offering.

"You're too nice," he sighed, insisting on splitting the first biscuit with you. "I love you."

You almost choked on your half of the biscuit, bursting into a coughing fit you'd expect from the actual ill person in the room. George immediately rose from the pillows to pat your back as you tried to remember how to breathe. "Are you okay?" His hand stopped patting as your coughing subsided but it didn't leave your back, instead rubbing gentle circles.

"I…" you spluttered, finally dislodging the rogue crumb. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do! No one ever cared about me like you."

His words were kind, tender, yet your heart still sank. He'd just said it because you were looking after him. You couldn't believe you'd actually thought for a moment that he loved you. There was nothing more you wanted than for the ground to swallow you up, but when George kept talking you stayed and listened. "Lockwood and Lucy do so much for me, don't get me wrong, and my parents did their best, but I'd be lost without you. I mean, all this…" he gestured around at the flask, the hoodie, you still sitting on his bed, "nobody else even noticed there was anything wrong. But you did. You see me, and I love you for it."

Tears welled in your eyes. You blinked them away, refusing to obscure your view of the beautiful boy beside you. His hand stilled on your back, twitching away, afraid he'd said the wrong thing. You leaned into his side, strengthening the touch. "I love you too."

His eyelids fluttered, a mixture of exhaustion and adoration. His free hand linked with yours. "Remind me to kiss you once I'm better."

"Why can't you kiss me now?"

"Because I'll make you ill, if I haven't already!"

"I'll take that risk." You leaned in.

"Nooo," he whined, a hand on your chest to keep you at a distance, "I'd feel bad. But lucky for you, I have a fantastic doctor, so I'll be better in no time."

"Oh yes, I hear they're exceptional and very committed. Now lie down."

George did as he was told, gasping at the rush of cold air as the duvet was lifted behind him. You eased yourself into the bed, legs tangling in his and pulling you closer until his back leant against your chest and your face was buried in his hair.

"What did I just say?!"

You shushed him. "It's fine, if I catch it you can look after me." You pressed a kiss to his temple as you reached over to click the lamp off. He groaned in the darkness.

"You're impossible."

"You love me, though."

His hand found yours again, bringing your arm to wrap round his stomach. Your fingers traced the warm, soft skin underneath the hem of your hoodie. He sighed contentedly, the rise and fall of your chest behind him lulling him closer to sleep. "I do."

You sneezed.

Damn it.

#lockwood & co x reader #george karim x reader #george karim #gn!reader #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood and co

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eluxcastar · 2 years

Text

Soft Dottore with his cold assistant 👀

── ୨୧：il dottore x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: observation in snezhnaya is always a pain, and it's not out of character for you to underestimate how thick a coat you'll need while outside during the winter

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, more soft dottore content, possibly ooc, I did not proofread a word of this but I noticed I wrote goat once instead of coat sorry if that happens again 😭

୨୧﹑words :: 1072

atp I don't think I can function without fluffy scenarios (send help) I wrote this while David Hobson was allowing Christmas to start with The Holy City (I don't even celebrate Christmas 💀) it's so late rn Merry Christmas Dottore nation ❤️

you hate these kinds of researching days, the dead middle of Snezhnayan winter when the Doctor decides there's an urgent sample he has to collect, something to study, today it's something he simply wants to observe - the functions of an automaton Sandrone had given him to play with. he certainly was fulfilling the 'fun' part of that equation, dragging you out at the break of dawn just to see how this machine works in snowy climates. in his own words, it is to go while the snow is still falling. the early morning hours would provide more time, he could be meticulous without the threat of time and the dastardly sun looming over his head threatening to melt all of his snow.

you expected to stay inside all day considering the cold, not even thinking to grab your good coat as you left home, and now you shiver under only the cover of a coat far too thin for the job. the sky is dark, no sun out to warm you even slightly. that's your only problem with the dark, finding it easy to navigate with Dottore only a few steps ahead of you brimming with confidence in where he's going. you should've known better than to think Dottore would be bothered by the cold. he isn't. he's pointing out things he can already picking up even when you weren't even at the spot he wants to test it.

you're not sure he can notice your shivering as you follow behind him. you wish you were with just about anyone else right about now, preferably one who wouldn't mind you standing close and cuddling up under their hopefully warm coat so that you could warm yourself right up with their body heat.

the Doctor would never allow such silly things, more importantly he'd scold you for your carelessness.

so you carry on until you reach the clearing, no less cold as when you first set out, though you have become somewhat numb to it. it doesn't help you at all. you sit down in a clear spot of snow while he sets his new toy down a small way away. he's fiddling away with that while you're fiddling with your coat, trying to find a way to cover all the cold spots where the air is making your skin prick with goosebumps. it's an impossible task.

your focus shifts at the sound of footsteps, the rustling of fabric coming from the same direction Dottore was in. you look up, thinking the Doctor must be coming to join you only to see him removing his coat. it takes you a moment to process the why and in that moment he's stopped right in front of you, coat bunched in his hands.

"Doctor--"

"You always forget to bring a proper coat." he places his coat over your shoulders, wrapping you quite snugly in it in fact, though you refrain from telling him that as you pull it taut around you in hopes of perhaps gleaning some extra warmth from it. it smells like him. it's like the warm hug you know you will never receive from him.

"Won't you be cold, Doctor?"

"You are on the verge of freezing to death. I'm surprised your teeth don't chatter." he says, a somewhat firm statement that shuts you up by pure accuracy as you didn't expect him to have noticed when you were tucked away just behind him the whole time. "For an assistant working toward the pursuit of knowledge, it makes me wonder how you don't ever learn."

there's a sense of embarrassment that settles in you as silence overwhelms the conversation, finding nothing that you could say in response that would disprove any of that-- inadvertently, you suppose that simply proves what he says. you don't learn. you bury your face in the fur lining of the collar. you recognise this coat as the one he wears to Harbinger meetings, as well as while he's out during the winters. it's quite a thick coat, you realise, perhaps explaining why he would take it out to what was only a field trip by comparison to your usual work.

you feel awkward as he takes a seat by your side, feeling cold in his place even when you're wrapped up in his coat and being practically insulated by it. his lack of covering is a lot more apparent now, sticking out like a sore thumb and it hits you that he likely knew the second he laid eyes on you in only a thin coat not made to withstand harsh winters that you were cold. it was obvious to you now.

as the minutes pass, you begin to realise you aren't staring at the automation like he instructed but at him, a wave of guilt overcoming you and you scoot closer to his side until you feel the warmth that radiates off of him as you part it to reach out for him.

"Doctor--"

"Are you still cold?" he remains unwavering in his focus on that machine, doing something you pay no mind to. whatever it is is mesmerising him, a state you've noticed happens most frequently when things work out, especially if they work out in a particularly interesting way. this looks like things are just working out though.

you shake your head, finding yourself easing back into the comfort his coat provides, "It's better," you add, "the wind isn't so bad."

you feel it again, the guilt that you felt taking his coat. it was the reason you had gotten closer at all. had he noticed that at all? you're hesitant to move again, wondering how-- if he would react if he was to catch you. knowing him he'd ignore it just to toy with you, even when he was watching you the whole time. he's distinctly mean in that way.

"Aren't you cold, Doctor?" you try to ask again, thinking he won't answer like last time. "We'll be out here for some time if it can keep that up." a brief glance to the automaton and you're not sure what exactly it's doing - likely the result of not looking at it for some time - but the way Dottore hums in agreement makes it sound as if he understands the sentiment. you make a good point it seems.

"We'll simply be forced to share it, since you didn't bring a coat of your own, silly little thing."

#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — fluff.#the sillies are so cute #dottore #il dottore #genshin dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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shyvioletcat · 1 year

Text

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 12

~ Meet Ugly / Meet Cute ~

Thank you so much for your patience with this one. I know it was eagerly awaited so I won’t keep you any longer.

The Sweetest Promise Masterlist

~~~~~

Aelin’s stomach grumbled, a reminder she should have eaten dinner at least an hour ago. But she was on a roll and she didn’t want to lose this flow, her empty stomach be damned. She had found a journal article on ‘hidden composers throughout history’ and she was busy dissecting it for her thesis. Four years ago at the age of twenty she had moved to Doranelle so she could study music at the city’s top university with a world renown music program. Aelin had loved just about every minute of it.

She was in her final year and was working hard on her thesis that would round out her entire course of study. The title of her thesis was The Female Impact on Classical Music. It was all that Aelin could think about, either awake or asleep. Researching, drafting and just trying to figure out how to use words took up most of her time these days. Then at night she woke up from dreams in a panic as she edited in her sleep. For the first three years of her course she had managed to work at a diner just outside campus in between and after classes, but it quickly became apparent that it wouldn’t last. Aelin didn’t know if she was in burnout or if the shift in brain function was just too much for her, either way once the new semester started it had only been weeks before she was handing in her notice. After that she had lived off her meagre savings until she figured out what she would do next.

Her savings were almost depleted and although she could go to her parents for help, she was determined to do this whole move to another continent for college and be self-sufficient thing by herself. Running back to mum and dad was too much for her pride to bear. They would give her whatever she needed and do it gladly. Aelin just didn’t want to feel like she had failed.

That was where Kaltain came in, a woman about Aelin’s age who lived across the hall. They had been passing pleasantries for months and weren’t quite friends but definitely more than acquaintances. One evening Aelin had been coming and Kaltain had been going, both stopping as they saw to the locks on their doors for different reasons.

“Date night?” Aelin had asked, noting the dress and the makeup and the heels. Aelin was a little jealous, she hadn’t been out in ages. She always loved an excuse to dress up.

Kaltain nodded. “Noodles? Again?”

Aelin sighed, looking down to where the five pack bundle of instant noodles could be seen poking out of her shopping bag. “I’m a girl on a budget, what can I say?”

Then Kaltain stopped, giving Aelin a curious look. “Did you know I’m being paid to go on this date?”

“Okay?” Aelin had no idea what she meant or why she was handing over this information.

“The amount of money I get from a single date is enough to feed me for a week and I don’t mean on shitty noodles.”

Kaltain went on to explain her situation. She’d set herself up with a reputable sugar baby website and app. People paid her for her time a few nights a week and all she had to do was turn up, smile and make conversation. If anything beyond that was requested she had the power to decline or approve, and there were various kinds of contracts supplied by the admin. It all sounded intriguing, but Aelin still held her reservations.

“And you don’t have to sleep with them?”

Kaltain shrugged a delicate shoulder. “That is entirely up to you. When I first started I just did a string of first dates until I got used to the whole process. And then when I got the hang of things or I liked a particular client, I changed things up.”

“Hmm,” Aelin hummed, considering everything she had just learned. As she crossed her arms the plastic rustled like a little reminder of what her alternative might be.

“If you want any help with your profile,” Kaltain sang over her shoulder leaving Aelin to decide on her own.

So, Aelin eventually deferred to Kaltain’s advice and taken the plunge. She spent days working on her profile and then it was a few more on top of that to publish it. What had held her back were all the assumptions that went with gaining the title of a ‘sugar baby’. If it got out, what would people think of her? What were the men coming into that situation expecting? Kaltain had assured her more than once that she didn’t actually have to sleep with the men and that she was in total control of what happened. Aelin could just take on the suggestion of going on a continuous string of first dates. That was what kept her resolve up and Aelin had hit post, connotations be damned.

That had been more than a week ago and she was still caught in a gut twisting anxiety of the unknown. Honestly, she found it a little insulting that it had taken her this long to get a hit. Humility had never been her strong suit, she knew she was beautiful and that alone should be a massive draw card. Maybe she’d have to ask for a very small loan from her parents with how things were going, one week for rent and groceries, that was all she would need.

Her stomach grumbled again, and Aelin was more than a little sad that this might just be her second helping of noodles for the day. Lunch and dinner, lucky her. She straightened, stretching her arms above her head to decompress her back. Her tiny kitchen was waiting for her when the phone beside her knee lit up. Aelin assumed that it was just some social media notification—but it wasn’t.

You’ve got a request, Sugar

“Oh, holy gods,” Aelin whispered, lifting her phone to her face. This was it, this meant someone wanted her company. For money.

Aelin unlocked her phone and opened the app just to see who this person might be. The first piece of information she was given was a name, Rowan Whitethorn. Not a bad start. She tapped through to his profile, he was a lawyer, lived in the city, his age was left blank—a little odd but apparently that was a subject some of the clients could get a bit touchy about. The final piece to the puzzle was his photo. Aelin touched the icon to make it bigger and—

“Oh.”

It was terrible quality. Like whoever this Rowan Whitethorn was had cropped his photo from a much smaller one. All she could distinguish was silver hair and his general facial features if she squinted. She grimaced and not at all pleased with her prospects. This looked likely to be some old guy wanting a pretty face to keep him company. It was only the hollow feeling in her stomach that prompted her to open the chat.

>> Hi, Rowan. How are you?

<< Great. How are you, Celaena?

>> Not too bad

<< Good to hear

Aelin was filing through small talk topics when the ellipses appeared, showing that this Rowan was typing away. She watched the tiny animation stop and start at least three times before a message finally appeared.

>> I’m just going to be direct. I need a date for a charity gala tomorrow night. I expect you saw that I’m a lawyer, I’m trying to land a client and a date is essential for that. It won’t be much more than following me around and smiling, and I’m willing to increase your proposed fee due to the last minute nature.

More dots and Aelin waited.

>> I understand if you decline. This was a last ditch effort for me.

<< Procrastinate, did you?

>> Seems that way.

For a moment Aelin sat on her bed and contemplated her options. This didn’t seem too bad. If she said yes she would be arm candy for some desperate old guy who couldn’t get a date on his own. It could be worse, so much worse. As far as a first round as a sugar baby went, this might just be a very easy introduction.

<< A charity gala? You said you’d let me charge for last minute inconvenience, what about wardrobe? I’m sorry but I’ve left all my ballgowns on another continent.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

>> Whatever you need. Say yes and I’ll transfer the funds right away.

Because now it was up to Aelin, she was the one with the power. She could ghost him or even go as far as blocking him, and never have to hear from Rowan Whitethorn again. Or, she could help an old codger out and get paid for it. It might be painfully boring, but at least she could get decent groceries and a pretty dress.

<< I suppose it’s a date, Mr Whitethorn

Aelin went back to her profile and confirmed the request. Her starting rate only sat at $350 because she had no reviews or anything yet, so she was hoping for maybe another hundred dollars or so for the “last minute fee” and for the dress. She waited, impatiently, for whatever notification was supposed to come next. Maybe he’d chicken out, or find someone better. Aelin doubted it, she was an absolute steal, she was beautiful and cheap.

The heralding ping echoed around the room and Aelin saw a tiny red bubble up in the menu corner. She followed the notification and it took her to the money page.

Please check your bank account for receiving of money transfer.

Heart pounding, Aelin did just that. She opened her banking app and there it was. $500

“Desperation did have a price,” Aelin said to herself with a smile.

Feeling accomplished and positively loaded, she decided that she could treat herself and order in tonight. And considering she had classes tomorrow she didn’t really have time to buy a dress for herself. There was another option, right across the hall. It might be wrong of her to pocket the dress money, but she assumed in the line of sugar baby work there were some blurred lines with minor ethics in this kind of trade. What the mysterious Mr Rowan Whitethorn didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Nearly 24 hours later was waiting outside her building in a dress she had borrowed from Kaltain, made up to the nines. She’d chosen a deep green velvet number. It hugged her curves, but not in an indecent way, and the draping cowl neckline showed just enough cleavage to spark the imagination. Aelin had swept her hair to the side in an old Hollywood style with red lips to match. She looked stunning and she’d made sure to take a few photos to add to her profile.

It wasn’t long before her Uber turned up, courtesy of her benefactor and it was just a short ride from her university recommended apartment building to the hotel the gala was being held at. Aelin got out of the car, the bright lights of the hotel brightening the street in the dark. Rowan had said he would meet her inside so she didn’t bother searching for her grey headed date out here. There were more people milling around inside and she caught glimpses of the room decked out for the gala. From what she could see, it looked amazing, and she was very interested to see what kind of desserts she’d be able to find.

Aelin sighed and waited, she couldn’t get in without an invitation. All the other guests showed either a fancy paper one or something on their phones. The large foyer started to empty and there was a fleeting sinking feeling in her gut that she might be getting stood up. At least Aelin was already paid for her troubles.

She watched the front doors, ignoring anyone who didn’t fit Rowan’s very blurry description. Plenty of handsome men and pretty women walked through the foyer and into the gala, as time dragged on Aelin got impatient enough that she checked her phone for any updates five times. She was about to send a message politely demanding to know where he was when movement at the doors caught her eye.

The man had his head down as he fixed his jacket cuff, his silver hair keeping her attention. When he looked up he damn near took her breath away. He was devastatingly handsome, his face on the rugged side of classically handsome with those sharp cheekbones. Like her, he was dressed for a party so it was easy to assume he was a fellow guest. The way his broad shoulders filled out his jacket was downright criminal, because holy gods this was a fine specimen of a man. The stranger paused to look around the room and then pine green eyes landed on her.

Aelin straightened as his gaze dipped over her and she was now damning the situation she found herself in. How was she supposed to flirt with this man when she was meant to be escorting a lonely lawyer around?

Unknowing about her internal crisis this god amongst men started walking over towards her, and Aelin tried not to cry over the fact that she would have to turn him down. Because despite his silver hair, he wasn’t old. In fact if Aelin had to hazard a guess he’d be 30—if that. His silver hair…

What if… no.

Aelin warred with herself, could this be him? Could this incredibly hot and not old man be her desperate lawyer? Was this the right guy?

He got closer and closer, not deterred by anything and he stopped right in front of her. “Celaena?”

Blinking twice, Aelin had to force her mind to jump start. “Rowan Whitethorn?”

When he nodded, the relief that went through her almost had her swaying in her heels. He wasn’t old. “I thought you might have stood me up.”

A boyish kind of embarrassment lit up his face. “I got distracted by work. That’s not unusual.”

“I see,” Aelin said. A desperate workaholic it was then.

Then just like that, he tugged at the hem of his jacket becoming a polished business man. Rowan extended his arm, the music and the lights of the gala beckoning. “Shall we?”

Aelin slipped her phone back into her sleek, black clutch and took up Rowan’s offer. “Lead the way.”

If this man and this party were to be her introduction into the world of being a sugar baby, Aelin wasn’t at all disappointed.

~~~~~

The evening was a complete success and full of surprises. Rowan didn’t know what to expect when it came to his date, but she was utterly charming and stunningly beautiful, and she managed to play the part perfectly. She smiled and chatted away, making up for Rowan’s lack of social finesse. What she was very good at was managing to steer conversations away from getting too personal. They knew next to nothing about each other, things could have gotten awkward very rapidly if not for her quick and distracting wit.

It was hard not to be drawn to her, to be enchanted by her. The dress she wore… it had nearly stunned him into silence. It was sexy, but also reserved enough that it wasn’t the wrong side of indecent. If that exact shade of green wasn’t already his favourite colour, after tonight it sure as hell would be. Celaena had a classic beauty, and she moved and spoke with admirable confidence. The unique hue of her eyes was startling and it was hard to look away.

On top of all that Celeana also had a wicked sense of humour and he was at risk losing his hard bastard reputation just from the sheer amount of times he’d found himself laughing at something she had said. She was a life saver. Having her there not only allowed him entry to the event, but also let him do all the elbow rubbing he possibly could with the directing manager of Forest Fae Toys and Games with the added bonus of some harmless flirting. She knew how to play the game and it was a relief that Rowan didn’t have to do all the work. He was in with a shot now thanks to his contracted help. This woman was well worth the money.

That thought was jarring and highlighted the ridiculous fact that Rowan had to resort to such lengths. But at the same time it had been so easy and Celaena had been more than lovely company. If he was being honest with himself, he’d like to see her again, and not necessarily in a paid for capacity. It was unfortunate that they had to meet under these circumstances, it just made things awkward for him going forward.

The uncomfortable truth of it was that Rowan was lonely. He’d forgotten how nice it was to spend time with a pretty woman outside the capacity of work. And it was almost like they had skipped a step here. Because of the pretence and expectations they had glossed over all the tension that came with being strangers. There were just less expectations and that made Rowan feel like he could relax. Socialising had never been something he’d been good at,, and it seemed Aelin had more than enough to make up for the skills he was lacking. He would very much like to see her again, but from what he understood, that decision was entirely up to her.

“I have one question before I go,” Aelin said when they were out on the street and waiting for the car he had ordered for her. Once they had left the gala they’d moved a healthy distance apart and even though it was silly for Rowan to miss her closeness, he did.

“What is it?” Rowan asked, curious as to what mischief that she was up to.

She raised a hand gesturing at his hair. “Is this a fashion choice?”

That was not what he was expecting, Celaena had surprised him again and it made him let out a soft chuckle. “Genetic. Runs in the family.”

She laughed, and shook her head. “Your profile picture was so bad that I thought you were some old guy who couldn’t get a date.”

“Well,” Rowan said, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck, “that’s only half true.”

She laughed again and the sound of it went straight to his gut. Her bright eyes stayed on the top of his head while she said. “Well, Rowan Whitethorn. My bank account thanks you.”

“You’ve saved me in more ways than one,” Rowan admitted.

The car pulled up and Celaena and the driver swapped confirmations before she turned back to him. “Goodnight then, Mr Whitethorn.”

He didn’t know why she called him that, but he didn’t exactly hate it. “You have a good night as well.”

Celaena flashed him one last smile before she ducked into the car. Seated inside, she leant forward and gave him a final wave and then she was gone. Rowan went back into the hotel foyer to use the elevator to get to the underground parking lot. His silver sedan was waiting for him, the colour now making him smirk. Climbing into the driver’s seat he was more than ready to call it a night.

Not bothering to plug his phone in, Rowan turned on the radio and then immediately tuned it out to fuzzy background noise. He was too busy thinking about Celaena to listen to the music or the words. It was unfair that they had to meet like this, it really didn’t give them a chance for anything more. And Rowan had specified he was only after a one time thing. He’d damned himself from the start.

Rowan was home before he knew, the streets of the city not all that busy this late at night. Tapping the dongle on his keys he pushed the button for his penthouse apartment. He had never bought it for pretentious reasons, he had loved the view if provided over the rest of the city—all the way out to the ruins that skirted the northern edges of it. His tie was the first thing to go, and then his jacket, next he was fishing his phone out of his trouser pocket and froze.

There was a notification on his screen, and if he had connected his phone like he usually did he might have pulled over wherever he was to tend to it. It had some from Sweet as Sugar and it kept up with the habit of being direct and succinct.

Celaena would like to spend more time with you. Yes or no?

Rowan unlocked his phone and he didn’t know if he’d ever replied to message that fast in his life. He even managed to accidentally scroll up in his efforts to send it a reply because his thumb had slipped in his eagerness. Because he very much had his one resounding answer.

Yes.

~~~~~

Posting from my phone so it might get another edit. @rowaelinscourt

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tyriq-edits · 7 months

Text

In the Plain of Nysa (Trigun Greek Mythology AU)

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Priest of the Twins' Cult

Lives pretty much in the Sanctuary of Nysa by himself but gets occasionally visited by other Members of the Cult, his younger brother Livio or people in need of the Twin Gods' Blessings.

A (Kinda?) normal Priest living in his tiny Sanctuary offside from Civilisation on a small Island in the Aegean sea called Nysa.

His Duties for the most Part consist of Prayers and Sacrifices for the Gods And keeping the Temple and Statue of the Twins clean and occasionally doing a Ritual on thr Request of the odd Visitor.

Did not expect one of the Gods he is serving to be dropped off at his Temple by the goddess Meryl and her Satyr companion Roberto and to be stuck Body-Guarding said God but oh well here he is.

May Or May Not Regret Giving Vash That Short Chiton.

For more Information/lore about this AU just look at the in the plain of Nysa tag on my page or just send me an ask in my inbox.

Also shout out to my best pal Stephan for teaching me how to draw.

Additional Ramblings about the lore and WW’s design under the cut

This is btw what a Penennular Fibula looked like and I only now noticed that WW is wearing it wrong in my drawing 🥲 The needle is supposed to rest on the Bow of the brooch and not in the opening in the middle.

Also this Fanfic takes place approximately around the time of the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BCE), however Penennular Fibula were primarily worn by either Celts and Romans. So as you can tell while I am trying my best with historical research and keeping things somewhat historically accurate, there are still creative liberties being taken for this AU.

As for why this AU and Wolfwood‘s Sanctuary are called "in the Plain of Nysa“: It‘s actually a reference to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, aka the most complete version of the Myth of Hades and Persephone we have. In this Hymn it says

In other words it was "in the Plain of Nysa“ in which Persephone was kidnapped by Hades. On a fun note, Nysa is actually not a real place anywhere in Greece. It was instead meant to symbolise "a place far away“ the same way we tend to say "in a kingdom far away“ when starting to tell a fairytale. However that did not stop some Ancient Greeks from guessing where Nysa might be located. Some thus point it to be situated somewhere in Macedon or today‘s Balkans, others claimed it was around the area of the Black Sea or…. That Nysa was on the Island Naxos. Which is why in early drafts the Sanctuary was meant to be located on Naxos itself but as I have never been to Naxos in my life it felt disrespectful to the actual people who live there so I just changed it to the Sanctuary of Nysa being on a lone non-existent Island near Naxos instead.

On a smaller note Nysa was also said to have been the Birthplace of Dionysos, with his name meaning "God of Nysa“. In other Stories however Nysa was the name of a mountain on which Dionysus had started his cult.

I am also taking some creative liberties with how Priesthood functioned in ancient Greece. Unlike how it works in Catholicism and other religions, Priests in ancient Greece were not a separate social class. Heck apart from a few Cults and sanctuaries, being a priest was not even seen as a main occupation of job for that reason. And a priest usually wasn‘t chosen by some council, but in many cases you just paid a certain amount of money to become a priest. They did not even have an official attire like catholic or shinto priests do nowadays. However they were still expected to dress somewhat formally compared to WW‘s Exomis, which is basically the ancient greek equivalent of a priest showing up in shorts, flip flops and an old Tshirt.

The Twins Cult in this AU is by the way HEAVILY based on the Eleusinian Mysteries, aka the Mystery Cult dedicated to Demeter and Persephone. I will some day make a post dedicated to them and priesthood in ancient Greece as a whole.

And yes I still fucking hate drawing feet and shoes.

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etirabys · 1 year

Text

on email

I put off wedding planning with the expectation that I would do a terrible but functional job once deadline urgency kicked in. This has started to happen. One consequence is that I have (probably but hopefully not temporarily) had to become a timely emailer.

The impetus was procrastinating on clicking a link in an email that it turned out I should have read ideally acted upon immediately. This is an embarrassing but characteristic mistake – my habit with emails is to open them, get a fast (and sometimes wrong) impression of the contents, have the emotion of not wanting to deal with it, and marking it as unread. I do this with a lot of non-email messages across all platforms, too, with the result that I drop a lot of messages that I forget to or can't mark as unread again.

I knew perfectly well what a loathsome creature I am to do this, but Willpower did not work.

I've been much faster with all messages in the past week and will describe what I understand of the change, so that it will hopefully persist.

(A prerequisite: for many years I have unsubscribed from, filtered, or blocked unwelcome senders. I try not to give out my email address for any reward greater than $20.)

i. I had to radically accept that I am tired and stupid most of the time.

Radical acceptance is a concept from mindfulness / dialectical behavioral therapy, and mostly means the opposite of "trying to believe something that isn't true". It means understanding and accepting your actual circumstances without flinching from them, and acting in a way that actually achieves your goals in those circumstances.

So it turns out – in some part because my expectations for myself haven't adjusted from my pre-burnout days when I had more energy and a better memory – that I put off things because "I can tell I'm dumb right now, and if I try to book this flight I'll probably double-book myself even if I check my calendar three times, and I should do this when I'm more awake." Or "I shouldn't resume this conversation about an art commission, because I don't feel all here today and I'm probably going to mess up the conversation". Or, of course, "I shouldn't make this decision the wedding planner is asking me about right now, because I'll make the wrong one."

While there is variance in my mental abilities depending sleep and time of day and so forth, I almost never pass the bar of cognitive competence I implicitly set for making these decisions. So if I keep the bar where it is, I'm never going to get anything done.

I have to radically accept that I am (compared to when I was younger) tired and stupid all the time, and I still need to live my life. I need to double-book myself and then pay $20 to reschedule my flight, arrange for a tasting with a caterer that doesn't meet a desideratum my spouse told me about, join a reading group I'm too busy for and then leave, get on a call that I forgot to do research for beforehand... etc.

And: I have to respond to emails and messages approximately as soon as I see them, because "my future self who will make informed decisions about things I cannot" is an illusion.

ii. Conversely, I should never check messages when I'm not prepared to make respond to arbitrary textual stimuli.

I used to check my email or messages when I was bored. This makes no sense! The contents of my email inbox are determined by the decisions of a large number of other people, and could contain anything. It is this variance that makes this addictive, and it is also this variance that makes it important to read it when I have the wherewithal to react appropriately.

I don't want to keep training myself into being the kind of person who repeatedly clicks and unreads a scary medical bill email. To stop that behavior, I want to have a mindset of "if one of my emails is a scary medical bill email, I am willing to read the whole thing, think about it, and take the appropriate next action" whenever I am about to navigate to my inbox.

The same goes for clicking into Discord or Messenger, because I need a similar presence of mind to react to invitations to high-effort social events, requests for help I may not be able to give, requests for information I need to think about before providing, etc.

The important thing is to not mix actionables with entertainment. I need mental separation between those two, because perceiving personal pings as a subset of social media notifications made me treat them more passively. "Oh, huh, a decision to join a Paradise Lost reading group is on TV. Interesting. Now an ad..."

---

I expect to backslide on my improved response rate/quality once I'm done with the wedding, but hopefully writing the above will act as the strut of a dam.

#rambl #human stuff #nia specifically should not read this because I haven't responded to her on discord

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th3w00ds · 5 months

Text

Sharper Headcanons

Sharper's a regular human

Although now, due to an experiment gone wrong, he got his arms and his legs replaced with a mix of metal and his own flesh, basically prosthetics

Very advanced ones, as he's a scientist and inventor and made them himself

He can feel through them, and they usually look exactly like regular limbs

That stays true even if others touch them, though you could probably feel the wires and circuitry in his arms/legs if you pressed down hard enough

Even though they do have machinery in them, they do still have human flesh and tissues

Hence in Take Me Anywhere where his body and the wires/circuits seem to be one whenever he's injured

Because, well, they are one

Sharper has a tendency to get hurt on accident a whole lot

That damages his prosthetics and exposes the circuitry underneath them

Which to him hurts just as much as a wound of whatever caliber it is would hurt to a normal human

A master at inventing and chemistry

In fact, once he had a whole company

It was called Sharper Industries. He unfortunately shut down his company after getting very addicted to his own invention: The Sharper Industries Immersion Tube, and the Hallucina-Puff Memory Gas that allowed the tube to work

Sharper hadn't completely made sure that the Memory Gas was perfected before he started producing and selling the Immersion Tube to the public, hence the "Excessive exposure to HPMG may damage some to all brain function" warning on the product

The reason Sharper got so addicted to it was after his ex-girlfriend, Jessica (whom he was on good terms with before her passing) died in a car crash during a storm while going to visit her family

Sharper, even with all his life-altering and potentially life-saving inventions, couldn't save her

Due to all his guilt about the accident and his belief that he could've done something to change it, he obsessively enters an Immersion Tube that he had installed at his home

Just to see her again

Over and over and over and over

Sharper couldn't stop thinking about Jessica and what he could've done to help her, even if he was the head of a wealthy company and, by all accounts from everyone around him, "needed to move on," Sharper couldn't

Not yet

His addiction to the Immersion Tube ended up nearly killing him

Sharper realized this due to his worsening health, worsening immune system, extreme memory issues, frequent migraines, flashbacks, and emotional instability

So he stopped using his Immersion Tube, and shut down his company. At the time it was just an extended leave, but without their founder, the company started to fall into disrepair quickly

By the time we see him in Take Me Anywhere, he's gotten over the majority of his addiction to HPMG

Although Sharper still goes occasionally have withdrawal (I have no idea if this is how addiction works so if I get anything wrong I apologize)

What Sharper hasn't gotten over however is Jessica and her death

At that time, he is now attempting to create a "perfect version" of HPMG in his personal lab

Well

More abandoned warehouse which Sharper has repurposed into his home and current laboratory

Yeah he just kind of found it abandoned, moved his stuff in, and was like "Alright this is my home now, I can conduct my research without interruption!"

Sharper hasn't gotten extraordinarily far in his perfect HPMG research, but has certainly made lots of progress

There was an unexpected side effect of one of his test versions of his altered HPMG

When he took it, all the injuries he had at the time were healed immediately

No matter the severity

While it worked wonders for physical injuries, it didn't work so well for mental ones

He is very, very determined to get there one day, to the perfect version. If not for him, then for Jessica

@nwtbobsessedemo @bondoes-art @themoonisrotting @colourfulmes @nightshade-error @flaming-dolph16

#natewantstobattle #nathan sharp #nwtb #natewantstobtl #nwtb egos #natewantstobattle egos #sharper #sharper nwtb #sharper natewantstobattle #sharper youtuber ego #youtuber egos #my headcanons #my writing

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 1 year

Note

Hello! I've been kinda stalling sending this for absolutely no reason, but I'm gonna do it today because it's going to rot in my brain if I don't. Actually, maybe you've done this ask before? Idk, my brain is all scrambled up rn but I'm gonna ask this anyway cause why not

What would happen if Yuu got their period in the Kaiju!AU? How would the Kaiju react?

I can imagine Grim and Crowley freaking out, trying to figure out what's wrong with Yuu. And all the while, Yuu's like, "What are you guys doing? Hey, stop bombarding me! Personal space! What- why are you guys sniffing me!?" And since Yuu doesn't understand what they're saying, they can't answer them on why they smell like blood. Or it the scenario could work with any other of the Kaiju's, too

Wait, how would Yuu even get menstrual products anyway? Do they get them from Sam?? How would they even get those type of products from Sam??? Maybe he get some of them from that wreck of a lab from the beginning somehow? Idk, but I thought it'd be a fun idea

Yeah, this is all I have rn since my brain is cranked all the way up on slow mode today. I hope you have a good day and goodbye! (Oh, and this can be a gender neutral thing with Yuu just being AFAB)

WARNING: Menstrual cycle discussion under read more! Will be using they/them pronouns since gender neutral/AFAB was requested.

Oh goodness, being in the Kaiju AU is going to be a little more difficult for Yuu whether they’re female or AFAB. 😂 Between staying in Crewel’s den or at Crowley’s nest, it’s tricky to get the supplies that they need or communicate to the Kaiju that this stuff they’ve piled up is necessary. Given that Grim does understand what Yuu is saying though, he is able to help at least get that point across…when it suits him anyway (if Yuu makes even more of a fuss than usual, he’ll translate for the others).

I’ll go ahead and explain that—at first—Yuu had to get a bit creative with their monthly cycle once it actually hit. I’d imagine that their body might temporarily shut down that function due to the stress of their new environment, being surrounded by giant monsters that could literally level mountains with a swipe, and the near constant sense of impending doom—even if they’re safe with the guardian trio. This is good for Yuu as it gives them time to finally venture out of the den with Grim to explore the other facilities as it would take a while before they can get back to the original lab.

Luckily for Yuu, the closest facility—although abandoned—was still in good condition and had most of the supplies that they’ll need. In fact, this is where they found the music player that Grim thought was a chew toy! So imagine the sheer excitement and relief Yuu would have the moment they found not one, not two, but a whole crate full of pads, tampons, period cups, and even extra unopened packages of underwear!

You might be wondering why there was so much. Well, because there are female researchers on the teams and the island is not exactly in the most convenient of places, which means that getting supply drops are far and few. Especially when you have creatures that aren’t the Kaiju who can and will attempt to attack any vehicle that comes near the island. I’ll get a bit more detail on the island’s setup and whatnot, but that’s a bit of context on how Yuu is essentially set when it comes to non-perishable items that could be used for a comfortable existence on the island of behemoths!

Sam may have found a few crates of other supplies that had been washed up, but it’s not like he knows what they’re used for unless he observed the humans using the tools out in the field. Even so, Sam will know when Yuu needs something and will make sure to have them available on his next visit. How else did he know to bring a bed when Yuu wanted something comfortable to sleep on?

Now, as for how the Kaiju would react when Yuu finally starts their cycle. If you were expecting Crowley to be freaking out over Yuu’s health like he did in the Twisted Monsterland AU, you’d be mistaken. He does get flustered, but more like a “my tiny human is too young to mate!!!” sort of way while Crewel just sighs at his theatrics. They would be concerned to notice if Yuu’s cycle causes them a lot of pain and discomfort, but luckily the facilities have plenty of painkillers and antibiotics that are available—all that’s required is MIRA to access the appropriate amount needed to get Yuu through their current cycle!

Surprisingly, Grim becomes more protective over Yuu whenever they’re around the other Kaiju. Whenever he notices that they’re uncomfortable (whether they just took painkillers or they’re exhausted or some other feeling they get during this time), he will pick them up or curl around them to purr up a storm and hiss at whoever comes near too fast.

He’s swatted at the first years more than once. 😆

The other Kaiju boys would be confused as to what’s happening. Sure, they know about cycles on an instinctive level (and they understand what it means), they’re just more confused as to the frequency. Do humans not have specific mating seasons? Eventually it does get to the point where they know to be less rowdy when it’s that time of the month, either bringing Yuu their favorite treats or snacks that they managed to get (and once it became clear that one particular fruit tasted exactly like chocolate pudding to Yuu, it became a staple) or taking naps with them. Yuu is going to be one very comfortable human once they figure out a good rhythm to manage things!

That's all I can think of off the top of my head, but there's more than one way to survive in the wild, and with MIRA at Yuu's side, their chances of survival were better than they were before! UvU Also fun fact, there really is a fruit that tastes like chocolate pudding! 0v0

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland kaiju au #twst kaiju au

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deliruousmistakes · 1 year

Text

Let Me Take Your Pain Away (Pt. 1)

Missions don’t always go as planned, they rarely do, actually. Thing is, when they don’t, someone might pay the price with their lifes.

But they won’t let that be Mikey’s case.

Based on @cokowiii’s ‘Just Another Day AU’

Part two here

Part three here

Supply runs are hard, it’s a slow process that tends to make easy objectives out of them, threatening to take the whole community down. Even now, after they’ve figured out how to be mostly self-sustainable, it’s very much indispensable, and each time they have to go farther and farther away in search of resources. However, every now and then, they’ll find something they overlooked in the past; this time, they seem to have found a goldmine (and a nearby one at that).

- “How come we’re only seeing it now? It’s super close.” – They were reviewing the last details of his mission. It’s nothing new and -thankfully- it shouldn’t take long: just a couple days, a week if he’s unlucky.

- “According to my research, something in there exploded, blowing up the roof and exposing the structure to the elements. The question is ‘why?’ though that I do not know, dear brother.” -Donnies eyes were shining, exited with the possibilities- “So be careful, extremely so. Now, regrettably, my current project is time-sensitive, so you go there first and scout the place. Then, if you deem it so, we’ll send a raid team.”

- “Yes, yes. I’ve done this before Dee. I’m a badass mystic warrior, I can handle it.”

- “One thing does not equate the other.”

- “Are you jealous because I’m stronger than you?”

- “Offended gasp, Michelangelo, you did not just-”

- “Cali!” - Mikey had interrupted and discarded his older brother in favour of giving a hug to his beloved husband. – “What are you doing here?”

- “A. I hate you. B. I asked him to come, as I need his help for one last test before you go.” - Answered Donnie.

- “Donieeeee.” - whining would stop neither of them.

- “Oh, well, maybe I wouldn’t have to do this if you didn’t murder my babies as a past time.” – retorted Donnie, though there was no heat behind his words.

- “It’s not on purpose, I swear.” -and it isn’t. Sometimes, his powers just aren’t compatible with his brother’s tech, making the trackers or monitors glitch or straight up die.

- “C’mon, Mikey, better safe than sorry. Let’s get this shit over with.” – persuaded Calimari as he drags a weightless Mikey to a chair. It was quick, have Cali take his vital signs and compare them with the ones on the monitor, the GPS function wasn’t so easy to test, and they’d asses it on the run.

- “Well, that’s it. You can go now. Don’t set on fire anything that isn’t a Krang.”

- “I’ll try.” – And then he stared at Cali - “Mari~”

- “What?”

- “I love you so, so much.” – A chaste kiss follows, but then their eyes don’t meet like usual; instead, Mikey is looking at their hands. Cali know he’s angsting about his death. Again.

The sight made his heart clench, so he got close in order to lick Mikey’s cheek. In response, the other let go, outraged, trying to clean his face with his hand, then proceeded to snatch the robe on Cali’s shoulders with a big, dumb smile on his face. – “Off I go.”

How he wishes he could go with him.

He marches back into the med bay, knowing that he has better things to do than wallow in self-pity. Leo and his team will be back soon, which always means an influx in patients. When they arrive, it’s shown that this time there is no exception, so he bussies himself with the work in front of him… Until he can’t.

It was sudden, from one second to the next. Something cold burned his hand, painful enough to make him drop the papers he was holding. Seeing what was wrong only made it worse. He saw the markings in his left hand. The white, form-fitting, and warm chain now was cold, loose, and had black patches all over it.

- “Cali,” -started Leo, worried tone, and getting closer to him – “what’s-” -the resistance leader froze in place, eyes wide open, but a second later he was leaving the place in a frenzy, pale and almost shoving people out of his way.

Cali figures there’s only one person he’d go to: Donnie.

- “Doctor Calimari, we need-.” - He didn’t get to hear what the request was. When he got to the exit, he could still see Leo at the end of the corridor, but he wasn’t fast enough to catch him, not anymore.

Still, he made a run for Donnie’s lab: his most likely location -and he will beat him if he’s not there-. He kept going even when he could barely breath, his muscles ached and his sight was going dark on the sides. Even so, he made it to the lab, but he couldn’t talk with how much his lungs burned and how he was about to pass out. Mikey’s remaining brothers were there, ignoring him completely.

Listening to them, he gathers that they will leave to search Mikey, who they lost contact with. Given the situation, they might agree to take him. Nonetheless, he won’t risk being told to fuck off. Thus, he plans accordingly.

Cali, waited for the right moment to hide into one of the trucks, from his place in the trunks he can’t see anything, although it shouldn’t take long for them to leave.

- “Oh, sweet Galileo, I finally get to-”

- “Donnie.”

- “Mikey, yes. Of course.” – He sets his horrid music on before flooring it, effectively launching them out of the base.

- “Puta.” – Thankfully, the noise drowned his voice. It’s even better when Leo turns turn the speaker off shortly after.

- “I just need you to keep an eye on it in case the signal comes back.” - Cali’s listening attentively, trying to collect as much information as he can.

- “Let me see if I get this straight: you two were talking, then ‘boom’, then nothing?”

- “Then you arrived, yes.”

Then they stayed silent, and Cali was left with his thoughts. He remembered talking with Mikey about their shared chains, he was right, this is agony.

- “Do you think he’s fine?” – asked Leonardo

- “Yes.”

- “But Cali’s chains-”

- “Just focus on the tablet. We’ll arrive soon.”

- “Okay…” – A pause – “Are you sure it’s working?”

- “Yes ‘Nardo, now stop talking.”

- “But it says Cali’s behind us.”

- “You put a tracker on me!?” – Shit.

- “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Cali!” - God damn it, he planned on staying hidden until they found Mikey. – “You know Donnie puts trackers on everyone! Where are you?”

- “Not everyone.” – Maybe they’ll start fighting and forget about him.

- “I stand corrected, he puts trackers on everyone he cares about. I know this, you know this, everyone does.” – He was blinded by a sudden light. – “What were you thinking?”

- “Get closer and I’m biting your hand off.”

- “Good thing It’s a spare.”

- “It’s not. Leo, stop. I won’t fix it.”

- “Donnie, turn this thing around.”

- “Don’t you dare. Fucking hell, get you priorities straight, I won’t drop dead for going outside. Mikey needs me, or would you rather waste time, see if he dies!? Then what.” - He was screaming at the top of his lungs, as he pierced the trunk’s floor with his claws. They wouldn’t go back, they fucking couldn’t. He’d throw them out of the window first.

- “Okay. First, this -to quote you- “thing” it’s a state-of-the-art automotive engineering, have some respect. Second, the Doc’s right, we don’t know what condition Mikey’s in, its better if he’s with us.”

Leo retreated back into the copilot’s seat without talking, and after a minute Cali crawled out of the trunk into the backseats. With actual light, he could see the chain again, it was mostly black now.

None of them talked after that. Until - “The signal’s back”- said Leo, as he paled even more – “Can’t this thing go faster?”

- “Why.” – demanded Donnie, looking at the screen while driving at full speed.

- “Watch the road!”

- “Gimme that.” – Cali snatched the tablet from Leo’s trembling hands, and started reading… tachypnoea and tachycardia, but low blood pressure and low temperature… Is he bleeding out? Fuck, uh, Leo said ‘boom, then nothing’… So, traumatic injuries (fractures, stabbing), blast injuries (brain, eyes, ears, lungs, abdomen). What else, burns? Maybe he’s just really dehydrated, that might do too.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud ringtone.

- “Hey, Honey Bunny.” - Those two are disgusting.

- “Leo? Where are you?”

- “In an impromptu mission? We think Mikey’s in trouble.” – That’s downplaying it.

- “Shit, I won’t take long then. Do you know where Cali is?”

- “In Colombia?”

- “What? No. They say he ran out after you.” – A brief pause followed - “he’s with you.”

- “I didn’t know, Yui. We can’t go back now.”

- “Leo.”

- “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll pass him over,” -he passed his communicator to Cali, who turned off the speaker.

As he talked, a screech filled the air, and he dropped the device.

- “Cali, are you okay? What’s going on?”

- “I’m fine.”

- “Are you sure? I can go there, I’ll prepare the another car.”

- “I said I’m fine, stop fussing. Donnie just ran over something.”

- “Fine...” – Cali could hear his brother thumping his tail over the phone. - “Do me a favour, stick close to Leo, okay?” - He grunted in response. – “And tell him that, if anything happens to you, I’m filing for divorce.”

- “Sounds like a plan.”

- “Fuck you, but be careful.”

- “Yeah, yeah.”

- “Cali, you better come back, okay? Preferably soon, you left a mess behind. Also, call me if you need help, and send me a message every hour to let me know you’re okay.”

- “Whatever, bye.”

- “Bye…” -And he hung up.

- “Congrats on the divorce.” - Declared Cali as he returned the communicator.

- “He didn’t say that.” – Answered Leo, defensive. Cali didn’t answer, just stared at the damp stain in Leonardo’s clothes.

- “Are you bleeding?”

- “No? Ah, I forgot.” - Fucking idiot.

- “Hah? You ‘forgot’!? Y entonces qué, ¿mágicamente va a desaparecer?” - He went back into the trunk to take out a first aid kit – “Jueputa, porqué son así, se creen indestructibles, estúpidos es lo que son. El otro es igualito.” – Then he started disinfecting, stitching, and bandaging. - “Estate quieto.” – It pained him that the chain was getting in the way.

For a while after that either reorganized the first aid kit or stared at the screen with Mikey’s vitals.

- “We’re here.” – Announced Donnie, restless. Before stepping out of the car he threw a gun at Cali – “The tracker’s not working, but his last location is fifteen meters south-east from here.” – Donnie started flying, and Leo followed promptly, carrying Cali.

By now, saying that the chain was loose was an overstatement. Cali feared that if relaxed his grip, it would simply fall off. So, he held onto it.

Mikey’s ‘last location’ was barren, with nothing living on sight. Thus, they took different paths in an attempt to cover more ground. Donnie remained on the air, while Leo went underground with Cali.

#rottmnt #fanfiction #fanfic #f!leo #f!donnie #f!mikey #f!usagi #Just Another Day Au #calimari #starburst duo #rottmnt oc #I hope I got this people right #How did I end up with this #I just wanted Cali to say sweet nothings to Mikey

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coldercreation · 8 months

Text

PSA:

If you have related to how I have described Nathan’s struggles with his mental health and some experiences with life; emotional, physical and social etc (ignore the story/his fam background for this; I mean if you have been able to relate to his feelings/anxiety/negative physical sensations etc.)

Might be worth it to get your blood checked.

Especially B12, Vitamin D, Iron levels and Ferritin (ferritin should be 100+).

Building on top of the character, character background, and my research into trauma / mental health etc, I have always used a lot of my personal experience when describing emotions, feelings, and how mental health issues can feel like or present. It’s my attempt to make the writing feel realistic, had I experienced the things in the story or not. Aka even if the story was high fantasy and thus not realistic, I’d source my own feelings to make it ‘real’.

So. Regardless of what's causing it in the story: If you have ever related to how Nathan FEELS or describes his experience with the world and his brain… (Anxiety, depression, chronic fatigue, feeling like an outsider/in a fishbowl, easily overwhelmed or over tired; social withdrawal, social anxiety, heart palpitations, chest pains, breathlessness, dissociation, irritability, issues with cognitive function; memory, overthinking, insomnia, brain fog, panic attacks, slow recovery from physical activity, etc etc et fucking c)

Turns out bish has been chronically deficient of many things for a very long time due to stomach issues that stopped nutrients from absorbing. Antidepressants have never successfully worked for me, and it’s now looking like that’s because my mental health stuff could've largely been a physical symptom, instead of just purely mental health??

I have been on a pile of supplements for a bit now and uhh… It’s like night and day? Even with the other health stuff I've been getting treated for, it's been... So much better?? Like. Life changing amount of difference?? And I’m only just starting out fixing these deficiencies, which could take a long time. But...

Holy shit, “Better” might actually be a real thing after all?? There was a reason I've been so "stuck"???

Kind of mad… And sad. Because if this is true and I keep feeling like I have been recently, it means I’ve lost a lot of time to this. I try to focus on how good I’ve been feeling though, and stay curious for this journey of what literally feels like a second chance at life.

Just… Wanted to post this in case it could help someone else. This is a highly personal experience, mental health issues absolutely exist on their own too and there's possibly often overlap as well. But stuff like this can make existing mental health conditions worse too, so either way it’s worth checking.

Yeah. So.

Happy new year?

From someone who might be pulling a whole Phoenix moment???? xx

#Apologies for the silence here #Been going through a lot if you can imagine lol #I have a bunch of asks and messages to catch up to #I'm so sorry for taking forever #It might take me a bit longer still but I promise I'll get back on here at some point hopefully soon #Your messages mean so much to me<3 #Take care everyone <3 #Also #the description of Nathan's experience could and would still be rather accurate #even if you don't have these physical health issues!!#Depression and anxiety etc from a deficiency is still depression and anxiety #+ when I write Nathan I have a set of mental health “maps” or “guides” for his character (like C-PTSD and CEN and OCD)#Yes I use my own feelings and experiences to describe his anxiety etc #But his character is built around specific mental health markers / trauma research / symptoms etc (like C-PTSD and CEN and OCD)#So I'm pretty sure Nathan's POV would still look very similar based on just that research and ignoring the stuff in this post #Hope this all makes sense :'o

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vlerian-root · 25 days

Text

PMDD + transitioning

I don't know how to write this in a more poetic manner, but I would like to put some words out of my head and into (virtual) paper. Being trans has saved my life

Quite literally! I have a medical condition called PMDD, that has been undiagnosed for 17 years. It is a neurological sensitivity to changes in levels of estrogen in the blood. There is documentation out there, don't believe anything that says "it's like bad pms". It has nothing to do with pms. This is your brain being "allergic" to you getting your period, and causing havoc on any and all brain functions - like a russian roulette! It can affect your mood (in a good and bad way, usually very extreme), leaving you suicidal, violent, nonverbal, manic... It can be very painful - and not just in your head, with the typical migraines that last for days, but also on the rest of your body, or localized areas. I used to not be able to move my legs for days at a time. "Just pms" my ass. It can affect your memory. Long and short term memory, some parts of mine are just gone. Erased. Not coming back. They are big chunks too. It can affect you psychologically, in all the fun flavors that can have, like paranoia, obsession, depression, hypomania, dissociation... This usually lasts up to 10 days and ends when you get your period. Which is a hell of its own, so I have lost half of my time for the last few years, when it started getting really bad. It only got diagnosed for me when my psychologist noticed a pattern of me getting really bad every month around the same time. He assumed I knew this. I did not. Nobody had every mentioned PMDD, I didn't know it existed.

But here is where we get to the good part. I was in medical psychological therapy for something unrelated (OCPD, a personality disorder, although most of the symptoms got really bad with PMDD), and the psychiatrist assigned to me is an expert in this matter. He talked to me about the research he had done, and the research I had done while obsessively browsing the internet for any morsel of info I could get. So far any medical treatments had been from ineffective to making things a lot worse, so I needed to talk to someone who knew their stuff. And he did! But we found that since this is your body being "allergic" to a thing it naturally produces, and will continue to produce for at least another 20ish years, the best treatment was to stop that cycle. I had tried this before with my gyno. This went terribly bad. Twice. Or rather, it went great for 3 months, then worse than ever after that, and it became the new normal. It was hell. I was at a point where I couldn't have any sort of normal life. Half the time I would make projects and live happily by myself, and the other half I needed help to even walk to the bathroom because my head was about to explode, my legs didn't work, I wanted to jump out of a window, and I forgot about all my deadlines. Oh, and the muscle spasms that looked almost like seizures. This shit had cost me 90% of my social life, all of my professional life, and was now simply trying to take my life.

BUT!!! Did you know that if you remove the ovaries, the estrogen blood levels stop rising and falling? Did you know that triggers premature menopause? Did you know that testosterone is a very effective treatment of the side effects of menopause?

That was my whole approach, and my brilliant psychiatrist agreed it was a good one. To this day, he has been the only person to not question this decision even if it's pretty radical. He's the only one that has understood there is no sense in asking someone whose brain is killing them from the inside "are you sure you want to do that? you won't be able to turn back!". I'm aware you can't put the ovaries back in. But they are. Killing me. Driving me insane. Please.

It took me ages to find a doctor that would even contemplate doing this (quite simple) surgery. Every single one of them used the "but you are a woman of childbearing age, I can't do this in good faith" argument. Or the "I don't know about PMDD so I think you are lying" covered in sugary lies approach. It was hell.

In the end, I have gotten the surgery. I no longer have overies. I'm writing this weeks after it, and I can assure whoever is reading this that I no longer suffer - or will suffer - from PMDD ever again. Writing that feels so liberating... The kicker is that I wouldn't have been able to access any of this if I wasn't trans. Because PMDD is so badly researched and documented that even the doctors that specialize in the organs it affects think it's "bad pms". I had to say "but I am a trans man, this is very dysphoric". Then, and only then, would they give me T. I am not a trans man, just transmasc. I wanted to get healthy before transitioning, because it's not very great to be in an unstable mental state to handle the tsunami of changes and their (sometimes social) repercussions that come with it. But irony of ironies, the cure for 90% of my health issues has been transitioning.

OCPD has gotten easier to manage thanks to the emotional resilience I got on T (and what my therapist taught me) No ovaries mean no periods, which means no spending up to 2 weeks each month with my brain self destructing. No more memory loss, no more pain, no more spasms, no more migraines!!! No more dreading the days before the next T dose in case the previous one is a little too short (this has sent me to the ER before). No more pregnancy risk. No more depression, no more low energy, no more low libido, no more bullshit!!!! I am ME, inside and out, forever!!!!! I haven't felt like this since I was 14, and I'm 32 now! This is insane to think about @_@ It sucks that I had to lie to some doctors to get where I am today. But if I hadn't, I don't even know if I'd be here. It wasn't that big of a lie anyways (I hope). Feels bad to me, because I hate lying, but... no, I think this one was ok.

TL;DR: I have PMDD, meaning my brain is allergic to estrogen, so you can kind of say I was allergic to being a woman, and transitioning has saved my life ♥

If you are still reading this, thank you. I'm very sleepy and this probably makes very little sense, but my dms are open to any questions.

#pmdd #trans #testosterone #estrogen #transitioning #healthcare #it's not about insurance or money btw. im not form USA. my healthcare is free.#having to fend for yourself is hard but this was Nightmare Mode on steroids #pmdd is a fucking hellhole get that shit checked out. it has a cure. its drastic but it works.#this is just like my gluten intolerance but... it's coming from inside the house. ohno.

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