#... use their brains. on occasion. think before they post.

[reasonsforhope]

Story from the Washington Post here, non-paywall version here.

Washington Post stop blocking linksharing and shit challenge.

"The young woman was catatonic, stuck at the nurses’ station — unmoving, unblinking and unknowing of where or who she was.

Her name was April Burrell.

Before she became a patient, April had been an outgoing, straight-A student majoring in accounting at the University of Maryland Eastern Shore. But after a traumatic event when she was 21, April suddenly developed psychosis and became lost in a constant state of visual and auditory hallucinations. The former high school valedictorian could no longer communicate, bathe or take care of herself.

April was diagnosed with a severe form of schizophrenia, an often devastating mental illness that affects approximately 1 percent of the global population and can drastically impair how patients behave and perceive reality.

“She was the first person I ever saw as a patient,” said Sander Markx, director of precision psychiatry at Columbia University, who was still a medical student in 2000 when he first encountered April. “She is, to this day, the sickest patient I’ve ever seen.” ...

It would be nearly two decades before their paths crossed again. But in 2018, another chance encounter led to several medical discoveries...

Markx and his colleagues discovered that although April’s illness was clinically indistinguishable from schizophrenia, she also had lupus, an underlying and treatable autoimmune condition that was attacking her brain.

After months of targeted treatments [for lupus] — and more than two decades trapped in her mind — April woke up.

The awakening of April — and the successful treatment of other people with similar conditions — now stand to transform care for some of psychiatry’s sickest patients, many of whom are languishing in mental institutions.

Researchers working with the New York state mental health-care system have identified about 200 patients with autoimmune diseases, some institutionalized for years, who may be helped by the discovery.

And scientists around the world, including Germany and Britain, are conducting similar research, finding that underlying autoimmune and inflammatory processes may be more common in patients with a variety of psychiatric syndromes than previously believed.

Although the current research probably will help only a small subset of patients, the impact of the work is already beginning to reshape the practice of psychiatry and the way many cases of mental illness are diagnosed and treated.

“These are the forgotten souls,” said Markx. “We’re not just improving the lives of these people, but we’re bringing them back from a place that I didn’t think they could come back from.” ...

Waking up after two decades

The medical team set to work counteracting April’s rampaging immune system and started April on an intensive immunotherapy treatment for neuropsychiatric lupus...

The regimen is grueling, requiring a month-long break between each of the six rounds to allow the immune system to recover. But April started showing signs of improvement almost immediately...

A joyful reunion

“I’ve always wanted my sister to get back to who she was,” Guy Burrell said.

In 2020, April was deemed mentally competent to discharge herself from the psychiatric hospital where she had lived for nearly two decades, and she moved to a rehabilitation center...

Because of visiting restrictions related to covid, the family’s face-to-face reunion with April was delayed until last year. April’s brother, sister-in-law and their kids were finally able to visit her at a rehabilitation center, and the occasion was tearful and joyous.

“When she came in there, you would’ve thought she was a brand-new person,” Guy Burrell said. “She knew all of us, remembered different stuff from back when she was a child.” ...

The family felt as if they’d witnessed a miracle.

“She was hugging me, she was holding my hand,” Guy Burrell said. “You might as well have thrown a parade because we were so happy, because we hadn’t seen her like that in, like, forever.”

“It was like she came home,” Markx said. “We never thought that was possible.”

...After April’s unexpected recovery, the medical team put out an alert to the hospital system to identify any patients with antibody markers for autoimmune disease. A few months later, Anca Askanase, a rheumatologist and director of the Columbia Lupus Center,who had been on April’s treatment team, approached Markx. “I think we found our girl,” she said.

Bringing back Devine

When Devine Cruz was 9, she began to hear voices. At first, the voices fought with one another. But as she grew older, the voices would talk about her, [and over the years, things got worse].

For more than a decade, the young woman moved in and out of hospitals for treatment. Her symptoms included visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as delusions that prevented her from living a normal life.

Devine was eventually diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, which can result in symptoms of both schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. She also was diagnosed with intellectual disability.

She was on a laundry list of drugs — two antipsychotic medications, lithium, clonazepam, Ativan and benztropine — that came with a litany of side effects but didn’t resolve all her symptoms...

She also had lupus, which she had been diagnosed with when she was about 14, although doctors had never made a connection between the disease and her mental health...

Last August, the medical team prescribed monthly immunosuppressive infusions of corticosteroids and chemotherapy drugs, a regime similar to what April had been given a few years prior. By October, there were already dramatic signs of improvement.

“She was like ‘Yeah, I gotta go,’” Markx said. “‘Like, I’ve been missing out.’”

After several treatments, Devine began developing awareness that the voices in her head were different from real voices, a sign that she was reconnecting with reality. She finished her sixth and final round of infusions in January.

In March, she was well enough to meet with a reporter. “I feel like I’m already better,” Devine said during a conversation in Markx’s office at the New York State Psychiatric Institute, where she was treated. “I feel myself being a person that I was supposed to be my whole entire life.” ...

Her recovery is remarkable for several reasons, her doctors said. The voices and visions have stopped. And she no longer meets the diagnostic criteria for either schizoaffective disorder or intellectual disability, Markx said...

Today, Devine lives with her mother and is leading a more active and engaged life. She helps her mother cook, goes to the grocery store and navigates public transportation to keep her appointments. She is even babysitting her siblings’ young children — listening to music, taking them to the park or watching “Frozen 2” — responsibilities her family never would have entrusted her with before her recovery.

Expanding the search for more patients

While it is likely that only a subset of people diagnosed with schizophrenia and psychotic disorders have an underlying autoimmune condition, Markx and other doctors believe there are probably many more patients whose psychiatric conditions are caused or exacerbated by autoimmune issues...

The cases of April and Devine also helped inspire the development of the SNF Center for Precision Psychiatry and Mental Health at Columbia, which was named for the Stavros Niarchos Foundation, which awarded it a $75 million grant in April. The goal of the center is to develop new treatments based on specific genetic and autoimmune causes of psychiatric illness, said Joseph Gogos, co-director of the SNF Center.

Markx said he has begun care and treatment on about 40 patients since the SNF Center opened. The SNF Center is working with the New York State Office of Mental Health, which oversees one of the largest public mental health systems in America, to conduct whole genome sequencing and autoimmunity screening on inpatients at long-term facilities.

For “the most disabled, the sickest of the sick, even if we can help just a small fraction of them, by doing these detailed analyses, that’s worth something,�� said Thomas Smith, chief medical officer for the New York State Office of Mental Health. “You’re helping save someone’s life, get them out of the hospital, have them live in the community, go home.”

Discussions are underway to extend the search to the 20,000 outpatients in the New York state system as well. Serious psychiatric disorders, like schizophrenia, are more likely to be undertreated in underprivileged groups. And autoimmune disorders like lupus disproportionately affect women and people of color with more severity.

Changing psychiatric care

How many people ultimately will be helped by the research remains a subject of debate in the scientific community. But the research has spurred excitement about the potential to better understand what is going on in the brain during serious mental illness...

Emerging research has implicated inflammation and immunological dysfunction as potential players in a variety of neuropsychiatric conditions, including schizophrenia, depression and autism.

“It opens new treatment possibilities to patients that used to be treated very differently,” said Ludger Tebartz van Elst, a professor of psychiatry and psychotherapy at University Medical Clinic Freiburg in Germany.

In one study, published last year in Molecular Psychiatry, Tebartz van Elst and his colleagues identified 91 psychiatric patients with suspected autoimmune diseases, and reported that immunotherapies benefited the majority of them.

Belinda Lennox, head of the psychiatry department at the University of Oxford, is enrolling patients in clinical trials to test the effectiveness of immunotherapy for autoimmune psychosis patients.

As a result of the research, screenings for immunological markers in psychotic patients are already routine in Germany, where psychiatrists regularly collect samples from cerebrospinal fluid.

Markx is also doing similar screening with his patients. He believes highly sensitive and inexpensive blood tests to detect different antibodies should become part of the standard screening protocol for psychosis.

Also on the horizon: more targeted immunotherapy rather than current “sledgehammer approaches” that suppress the immune system on a broad level, said George Yancopoulos, the co-founder and president of the pharmaceutical company Regeneron.

“I think we’re at the dawn of a new era. This is just the beginning,” said Yancopoulos."

-via The Washington Post, June 1, 2023

[highvern]

When in Rome TEASER

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, cheating, penetrative sex, nudity, mentions of drug use, more tbd

Length: tbd, teaser: ~3k

Note: excited to have this for the @svthub world tour collab! thank u to everyone who helped me brain storm and ofc @gyuswhore for dealing with the insanity that is my brain

Summary: After months of no contact, Seungcheol isn't sure what to expect when he sees you again at Jeonghan's wedding. He's prepared to apologize, to grovel, to bear the weight of a cold shoulder. Whatever it takes to have you back, his best friend since diapers; or whatever will ensure the last third of your trio has the best day of his life. But when he overhears the most recent development in your relationship, he must come to terms with something he was never prepared for, or risk losing you for good.

m.list

Leave a comment if you would like to be tagged when this is posted on July 7th. YOU MUST HAVE AN AGE IN BIO TO BE ADDED!

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

There are fewer places Seungcheol hates more than airports. Dentist offices, his grandparents’ house during the holidays when they ask about grandkids, and even the time he ran into his elementary school science teacher the first time he was buying condoms at the pharmacy, all were more favorable than the hustle and bustle of an international airport. 

Seungcheol likes to be straightforward and direct. Something that becomes seemingly at odds with the average person traveling because at the one place everyone has somewhere to be, they act as if they have all the time in the world.

But the simple thought that it's all temporary, that his personal ninth circle of hell is the only thing standing between him and a week in Italy is enough to grin and bear it. 

On the other side of the terminal, his best friends are waiting for him. It’s not as if they haven’t seen each other for long; Jeonghan and Sofie were at bar trivia last week as their last hurrah before tying the knot. As usual they wiped the floor with everyone, rousing several allegations of cheating that Jeonghan deserved. But Seungcheol is about to watch them get married and it makes him a little misty around the eyes because he loves his friends more than anything. 

The only concern, which is less of a concern and more of a titanic size anchor sinking in his gut, is that you’re Sofie’s maid of honor. And you haven’t spoken to him since New Years when you revealed you were moving to New York with your boyfriend, Johnny.

Another place Seungcheol dreads, right next to the airport, is anywhere Johnny happens to be. He’s everything you aren’t: abrasive, arrogant, catty, disorganized. And those are just the traits at the front of the alphabet. 

You had a plan. A list of criteria he had to listen to over and over again after each failed date. Even the guys Seungcheol set you up with after carefully vetting didn’t seem to make the mark. It was respectable, commendable. You wouldn’t settle for anything less than “perfect.” Whatever that meant to you. 

At a bar, three years ago, Johnny approached you. Seungcheol watched from across the table as you mentally ran over your checklist. Johnny met the physical ones: tall, good hygiene, well kept appearance. The other things would need more investigation. What did he do for work? Was he close with his family? Kids? Opinions on cheating at bar trivia?

The more Seungcheol learned about Johnny after your detailed debrief from a few dates the more confused he became. Johnny worked in banking. You hated finance bros and called them scum of the dating pool. He was an only child and only talked to his parents on holidays and birthdays. You had grand dreams of close grandparents and houses full of cousins. He didn’t want kids. You did. He didn’t think bar trivia was that serious. Seungcheol watched you threaten Jeonghan’s life on more than one occasion over the use of Shazam during the music round. Johnny was everything you said you didn’t want. 

And then you followed him across the country after two years of dating cut with three breakups. 

It didn’t make sense. 

When Seungcheol pulled you aside after you announced you’d be moving, trying to figure why you thought living with the man who once asked if you really needed to wash bath towels if you only use them when you’re already clean, you told him to mind his business. Later that night, after enough drinks to make everything blurry, you two got into a screaming match on the sidewalk with your shared friends attempting to play referee. It was the last time you two spoke. 

In over twenty five years of friendship, founded on the backs of elementary school shenanigans under a reign of terror of one Jeonghan Yoon, you and Seungcheol’s real fights can be counted on one hand. 

The sixth grade field trip where you and Jeonghan left him out, senior year of highschool when the girl Seungcheol took to prom argued about his parents taking more pictures with you than her, and junior year of college when Seungcheol caught you making out with his frat brother after ditching him under the guise of having a stomach bug. That was it. Three fights, all of which were resolved within a week because as stubborn as you both are, you’re best friends. 

Five and a half months of not speaking, except when Seungcheol texted a half hearted apology and you responded with a quarter of forgiveness. That was it. 

But Seungcheol won’t dwell. He refuses to make things awkward for Jeonghan and Sofie during the most special week of their lives. Knowing you, you’ve probably already come to the same resolution. The only person you’re closer to than Seungcheol is Jeonghan with Sofie a close second. If there is anyone you two will agree to put aside an argument for, it's them.

The sun has already begun setting when he makes it through customs and out towards the Arrivals, painting everything in buttery yellow. 

“SEUNGCHEOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL!” Sofie screams, hands cupped around her mouth.

She’s half outside the cherry red sports car. An Intermeccanica Italia Spyder because Seungcheol knows three things in life: expensive watches, expensive whiskey, and expensive cars. Sofie’s family happened to have plenty of the last and Seungcheol assumed the first two as well.

When Sofie became his study partner in law school she ended up following him on Instagram. He assumed from the way she carried herself, perfect posture with tailored clothes and an ‘air of society’ as you called it, that she was well off. But then, during a late night gossip session, you and he did a deep dive and found out Sofie wasn’t just well off. Her family had more money than God. 

But everything on the surface was a contrast to who Sofie really was. Heiress to a fortune but studied more than anyone in their class just to graduate second. Perfect posture and tailored clothes are a stark contrast to her favorite bar where she’d outdrink anyone, and cheer when the prize for trivia was cheap plastic margarita glasses.

Or right now, where she belts Seungcheol’s name again like some drunk frat boy while sitting in a car worth more than his life.

Seungcheol jogs to where she waits, already smiling. 

“I would have brought a ‘Welcome back from rehab’ sign but my mom thought you’d be embarrassed,” Sofie says as she hugs him over the console. 

“At least make it ‘welcome home from prison’ so people won’t walk in my way.”

“I’ll make sure Jeonghan remembers you have a preference,” she calls over the wind. 

Technically, the house (which is really a mansion) is almost an hour from the airport. With Sofie’s driving it only takes twenty minutes in which Seungcheol thinks he might need to start going to church. 

The pebbled driveway crunches underneath the tires as they approach. 

In the evening light, the house is more daunting. An imposing stone facade rises from the ground, more akin to a small castle than an actual home. Smooth stone with detailed carvings, windows with huge shutters, and on the top floor, a balcony, fenced with wrought iron, juts out.

Even after years of seeing pictures, Seungcheol still can’t believe his friend grew up here. 

Sofie throws the car in park right in front of the door before jumping out. 

“By the way, there were some issues with one of the rooms.” Sofie drops her voice, “My aunt and uncle are fighting, so I hope you don’t mind sharing?”

Seungcheol knows most of the guys coming to the wedding. Worst case scenario he’s stuck in a twin size bunk bed with a weird cousin. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Perfect! Just leave your stuff, everyones out back.” Sofie pushes him as hard as she can manage which isn’t much at all given she’s five foot nothing. 

The garden is filled with bodies upon bodies crowded together, some old, some young. Seungcheol recognizes a few faces in the mix: Soonyoung, Joshua, Seungkwan. More friends from law school. Jeonghan’s sister waves from across the way. Everyone seems to be paying attention to whatever is happening at the iron garden table. 

And then, like a scene in a movie, everyone parts for a second and time freezes. 

Seungcheol would recognize you anywhere. Even if he can’t see your face, he knows it's you. The curve of your shoulders, the tilt of your head. The bark of laughter as your chin drops forward. He knows it's you and the weight in his stomach lightens and leadens in an odd cycle.

He missed you.

Then everything comes back into real time. Wine and cards. Then he sees the chips on the table, your stack to the side significantly higher than anyone else's. 

Months of ruminating over what he’d do when reunited fly out the window. Seungcheol doesn’t waste a minute as he approaches, hand on the back of your chair as he peeks over your head to sneak a glance at your hand.

“Who let you talk them into poker?”

You’re already smiling when you tilt back to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Oh, how he missed you.

“She said she didn’t know how to play,” an old man grumbles from the side. 

Seungcheol doesn’t recognize him but he’s got the same expression as all the people you’ve sharked before: mildly impressed and slightly murderous. Two other guys sit at the table, one old enough to be his grandfather looks almost proud. Seokmin fills that last seat, head in his hands at being swindled so easily. 

“I said,” you start, throwing your gaze to him. “I hadn’t played in a while.” 

You look back up at Seungcheol for some kind of support. Eyes round and innocent in a way you both know you’re not. Pool, cards, darts, any game a man a few drinks in could beat you at was easy fodder for your con. Usually it ended with free drinks, sometimes money, but mostly it’s Seungcheol playing referee for the disillusioned guys you swindled while wearing a bright grin. 

Tossing a few chips towards the three men at table with a smart “don’t spend it all in one place,” you rise and throw your arms around Seungcheol like everything is normal. 

“Hi,” you whisper into his neck.

Seungcheol’s hands are already curled around your waist, pulling you in tight. “Hi.”

“I missed you.”

“I see that you can’t even greet your best friend.” Jeonghan coughs from the side.

Seungcheol squeezes you tighter at the jab. It’s Jeonghan’s wedding but the last time Seungcheol saw him was last week when dropping the couple off at the airport to come here. He’s far more interested in dragging out his reunion with you as long as possible. “I’m in the middle of that actually.”

He scoffs in response, walking away. “Whatever, I see too much of you anyway.” 

Another two hours of celebrating, filled with drunken toasts and more card games with Sofie’s family that only end with you digging into their pockets even deeper, fly by before the exhaustion of a day starting in one continent and ending in another catches up to him. You’re too busy arguing over if Jeonghan cheated in the last round to notice Seungcheol slipping away from the table and towards the door leading inside.

Sofie is in the kitchen just beyond, another bottle of wine sloshing in hand as she talks animatedly on the phone. “Okay, look. I am on vacation. I’m about to get married. I literally left notes for everything I'm not working on during my wedding week. Figure it out. Bye.”

She hangs up without response, tossing her phone on the counter before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Good?” Seungcheol asks.

“Oh, you know, just the usual. I leave and suddenly no one knows how to do their job.” Sofie rolls her eyes. “What’s up? Need another glass?”

She raises the same bottle and the thought of more wine nearly turns his stomach.  

Seungcheol brushes her off, moving to the sink and rinsing his glass with finality. “I think I’m gonna crash for the night.”

“Really?” she asks. “But the party just started!”

“For you maybe, some of us have been cramped on a plane all day.” He feels it. In his back and knees. The cramp in his neck from passing out halfway through and waking up bent at ninety degrees. And the hours he spent agonizing through emails with the inflight WiFi because even on vacation he can’t sit still for more than one minute. But now it’s a ticking time bomb before he curls up in a chair and passes out until morning.

Sofie snatches his glass before shooing him away from the sink and taking his place. “I forgot you’re an old man now.”

“You’re the same age as me?”

“Anyway,” she sings. “I know we promised you’d have your own room but—”

“That’s fine. I really don’t mind rooming with one of the guys.”

“Well… you and Y/N were the only ones not sharing and she said she wouldn’t mind for the weekend.”

“Huh?”

“I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal! Seokmin and Kwan agreed to share and room with Josh so things are pretty tight but I can see if we can switch things around and—”

“No, if she’s okay with it then it's fine.” Seungcheol says. “We just haven’t talked since, you know?”

Sofie seems to soften at that. “Seems like everything was fine outside.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighs. “I missed her.” 

“I know she missed you too.”

“She said that?”

“Oh please, neither of you have to say anything, you’re both pathetic,” she says while pouring another glass. “But I think this weekend will be good for you guys! Like old times.”

Old times. Before the fight. Before you moved away.

“Yeah, just like old times… At least we aren’t sharing a bed, right?” He jokes. 

“Actually,” Sofie grimaces. 

The one solace Seungcheol is gifted is the bed is massive. Almost the entire room is dominated by the plush mattress, a dresser, and a chair in the corner. He considers sleeping in that instead for all of a minute before realizing you probably wouldn’t let him and the absolute torture it’ll do to his neck. 

At least the forced proximity won’t be awkward since you’ve silently agreed to leave the past behind you. He can’t imagine Sofie would consider this solution if you were still mad at him, even if it was her wedding week. The realization lightens the weight on his shoulders an ounce more.

Seungcheol throws his bag down at the foot of the bed. It’s no big deal; sharing a room with you. Childhood sleepovers had been the norm, a few nights in college you’d shared a clunky old twin bed when you both were too drunk to find your ways home separately. Your first apartment together, when you two had to share a mattress on the floor for the first weeks because all your money went into paying rent, flash in his head. Old times.

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and in clean clothes, Seungcheol heads back downstairs for a glass of water before bed.

He remembers where the kitchen is after Sofie’s short tour, trapezing through the huge house easily. Behind different closed doors he catches glimpses of pre-sleep conversations: couples spitting harsh whispers to each other, a few cartoonish voices reading bedtime stories to an audience of childish giggles. But when he reaches the threshold of his destination Seungcheol stumbles into an entirely different atmosphere.

“You haven’t told him yet?”

“No. I didn’t feel like the kind of thing to say over text.”

“Well you could have called him!”

“And say what? ‘Hey Cheol, I know we haven’t talked in months because we got into a huge fight about my boyfriend but Johnny and I–’”

Seungcheol strains his ears to hear the rest of your sentence but fails to decipher anything before Jeonghan’s voice cuts in. Whatever ‘it’ is, you’re not ready to tell him.

“Just tell him.” Jeonghan says through a mouthful of something. “I’m sure he’ll be happy.”

His mind races with a million possibilities, all related to Johnny, all things you wouldn’t have told your best friend of over twenty years because of some stupid fight. Something you don’t know how to tell him over the phone, something you need to tell in person.

The realization strikes like lightning.

You and Johnny are engaged.

Thirst forgotten, Seungcheol turns back the way he came. He thinks through the new information as he stumbles up the stairs.

How could you not tell him? How could he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him? How long have you been hiding this? And why did Jeonghan and Sofie know before he did? Was everyone in on the secret and he was the odd man out?

You and Johnny weren’t even that serious when you moved away; or, that's what Seungcheol thought. In all honesty he fully believed it was some joke when you told him. A drunken practical joke taken too far but then the boxes were packed away and the moving truck came and you left with it. 

Everything else hits him in the seclusion of the bedroom. Your shared room. At least for the rest of the week.

Seungcheol isn’t happy. He is, but because you’re you, argument aside. If Johnny makes you happy enough to tie your lives together then he can bite his tongue. You’re his best friend and by default he’d never think anyone was good enough for you but if you loved Johnny, if you were this serious about him, then Seungcheol would support you.

Even if it meant there would always be a Johnny sized ravine between you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited

[kremlin]

@wikwalker hi sure yes anything to give me an excuse to procrastinate the post i should be writing right now. here are all teh drugs and how to manage them. you can trust me, a drug addict

first of all: https://www.erowid.org/ , erowid always

don't be afraid of drugs, if they're the right drugs, you should do them since they will be a blast regardless and overcoming fear is also good (but outside the scope here)

OK to do as much as you want: alcohol - social benefit greatly outweighs health effects, no reason to avoid if predisposed to abuse since that'll happen sooner or later. what can i say? don't be a fucking dork. when you start drinking, really overdo it as much as possible without dying and get a few real nasty hangovers under your belt so you know how much is the right amount to drink.

weed - innocuous enough to be fine but will make you stupid in the long term. make sure to only buy from a real drug dealer and never some legal institution. cut it out when you're a "real adult". don't smoke weed and watch TV routinely, go out and do things so you naturally grow to hate it. good to go through this as early as possible to minimize the time you spend as a cringe weed enthusiast

i guess those are the only two.

ok to do infrequently (annually): "lsd" - or whatever it is, probably not lsd, blah blah blah, if it works and is sold on blotter its fine and won't make you go nuts or whatever. opt for a better psychadelic imo. see psych rule at bottom of section

mushrooms - better than acid since you know what they are. rule of thumb is to always do more than you think you want. minimum 1/8oz. see psych rule at bottom of post

dmt - if you somehow have a dmt hookup you don't need to be reading any of this. lasts 10 minutes which leads to tendency to way overdo it, don't do this, my favorite webcomic artist is permanently crazy from exactly that. using a crack pipe is also not the uhhhh most dignifying-feeling thing to do either. it's harder than you think.

mdma - for use at electronic music event or rave. overuse causes brain lesions or something.

coke - wait until you're in your 20s, have maxed out your roth IRA for a couple of years in a row, and havent missed a car payment in a similar timeframe. better still if you've worked a very shitty low paying job and know the value of a dollar. if you still find yourself buying candy you're not ready. too expensive to be worth it to get hooked on. know that you are VERY ANNOYING to anyone who also isn't high. don't fuck around with the guy selling it to you. avoid discussing or thinking about business ideas. you can't afford to make it a habit + kinda turns you into a piece of shit after a while, but at least a very interesting one

ketamine - another sick drug that rules, but save it for a special occasion. don't try and go into the k-hole your first time

rule for psychedelics - you get one good strong trip a year and that's it, make it count, always opt for doing a bit more than a bit less. but don't make it a habit, otherwise you turn into a very stupid very annoying "hippy" style cliché and believe in ghosts, aliens, crap like that.

ok to try once prescription opiates/benzodiazepine (xanax), valium, this kind of shit - worth trying so you can go "holy shit, this stuff is way way way too good to ever use responsibly" and then never do again. especially if you're white. for some reason we just can't handle this shit. if a doctor prescribes it to you, idk, that's your call to make.

ayhuasca - this is just dmt in a different form. do some other psychadelics a number of times before you do this. once you realize the whole "substantial visual hallucinations" thing is made up, its time. do exactly this: -buy root online (legal). receive box of dirt -boil dirt into "tea" (read erowid for exact recipe) -take over-the-counter anti nausea medicine or anything that will give you a stronger stomach -drink tea (its nasty as fuck, get it down quick) -have someone bigger than you keep an eye on you for the next five hours. -have the experience, which is absurdly intense, has no bearing to the real world, etc etc. don't be a bitch and throw up, if you do it'll only last an hour or so. again there is no way to provide a consistent description of the experience except that you will meet god. you only ever need to do this once and never again. trust me

peyote/salvia/etc - try em if you want, you'll never ever want to again afterwords. these are drugs for idiot teenagers too lame to get real drugs. imagine being very very sick from poison and utterly terrified at the same time. No good

whippets/nitrous oxide - just find a dentist that uses it and don't bother creating hundreds of pounds of trash on your floor for this crap that lasts ten seconds. you have to understand the extremely short timeframe coupled with the cost makes zero sense. go to a phish concert parking lot and do some people watching -- you do not want to be these people. only use is as a motivator to get routine dental exam. also if you somehow manage to make it a heavy habit your fucking legs stop working, no shit, but they start working again once you quit.

don't ever do heroin/meth/pcp - is is truly a mystery why you should never do these 🙄

synthetic weed/k2/shit from the gas station - it is so funny that they sell this as "weed that won't pop you on a drug test". its not weed. it is some dubious chemical sprayed on yard waste. smoke it to have a terrible time and go nuts. only buy drugs from legitimate drug dealers!

kratom - anyone's guess as to why this is legal but it's heroin for pussies. its still heroin

dxm/cough syrup - do you ever wonder why it is exclusively teenagers robotripping? it's because it sucks ass. is like a cheesegrater on your brain in terms of health effects with repeated usage. you're better than this king

inhalants - these are at the bottom of the list for a reason. do not huff gas. don't huff paint. do not consume computer duster. not fun + fastest way to make yourself a complete, uh, (word i can't say anymore) and then dead

not listed quaaludes- unavailable due to no longer being manufactured. these ruled apparantly

sincis2c - unavailable due to not existing, i just made this up

amphetamines - cannot provide objective take here. they're my albatross, lifelong (posted 4:55am natch)

[whoistartaglia]

not necessarily a request but in response to your “i’ll save you a seat” post, i’d like to imagine scenerios where you (reader) gets to the door before xiao and open it and he just—malfuctions—error error!! and he silently closes the door infront of you only to open it again for you!! maybe this even turns into some strange competition where you and xiao fight to open the door for one another lol (xiao will always win because he just closes the door again and then opens it)

ANON DKSOEMLSLS I DIDNT EVEN THINK OF THIS BUT HE TOTALLY WOULD

spiritual successor to this (i suggest reading first)

as for the rest of them…

wanderer puts his hand over the edge of the table only to accidentally smack you in the head. hey, it’s not his fault! at least, that’s what he tells you when you’re rubbing the welt on your forehead. you bent down so suddently that he had no choice to move quickly. should you mention that he probably did more harm than the table, he’ll grumble that he would have picked whatever you dropped up for you.

diluc double flips over your pillow. you left to get up, he flipped it over as a sleeping diluc does and then he does it. again. maybe he was extra tired or thought you got up again. to be honest, you didn’t really know of this habit of his until the mistake. you come back to a warm pillow and snoring diluc, and turn it over yourself. this may or not may wake up diluc, and he may or may not flip it over onto the warm side yet again.

kaveh reminds you if you have everything but he should honestly save a reminder for himself. once or twice or three times he’s left the house without his keys, his work, his shoes (that was a strange occasion and he still didn’t realize for a solid ten minutes). you’ll have everything you need to get through the day, but kaveh will have to make a pit stop back at the house to pick up his own forgotten items.

childe makes you too many snacks at once. when he brought over the first one, you thanked him with a genuine smile. the second time, you still had some of the first snack left, but thanked him anyways. the third time you got a little concerned; the fourth… well, you at least finished the first snack by now. you have to tell him that it’s okay! you don’t need a fifth right now! (he already has it ready to go—you’ll find him eating it alone in the kitchen).

zhongli goes into debt. listen, he’s still getting used to this whole mortal thing, and honestly, not having access to infinite mora definitely blows. he’ll find some gift he absolutely must buy for you only to realize he has only one golden coin left on him. later that night, he’ll still give you that gift, and if his smile looks somewhat strained, it’s because he had to get a certain someone to pay for it.

kaeya’s brain kind of short stops when he sees you get to the tavern before him. oh, you’re already sitting down, look at that. that’s fine and all, he wants to be the one to save you a seat. so you’ll look over when kaeya still hasn’t joined you and find him sitting at another table alone. that’s strange, what’s he doing there? you walk over to him and he pulls out the chair for you, and so your seat for the night as once again been saved.

alhaitham will get annoyed if you fall asleep during a good part of the story. like, yeah, that’s point of him reading to you but, really, did you have to fall asleep during the best part? he has two options: gently shake you awake to finish the chapter, or let you sleep like intended. his choice will depend on what book he’s reading, but if he wakes you because it’s a research paper and you just got to the oh-so important findings, feel free to take the paper of his hands, drop it on the floor, and go back to sleep. he can continue in the morning.

[jester-lover]

Reverse of the ask where TWST bois pick the reader up: Reader is surprisingly strong and scoops *them* up.

I think the bigger the dude, the funnier, but Riddle’s reaction would be hilarious to me as well.

Somewhere in the distance, Ashton Vargas just found his new favorite student…

OG Post! Something similar for the Jack fans!

Buff Girlfriend Casually Lifting Them

Featuring! - Riddle, Jack, Malleus, Sebek

CWs/ Fem! Reader, fluff, humor

Riddle

“Unhand me at once!”

Riddle is shocked, appalled, and redder than a strawberry the second he feels you hook your hands under his knees and neck and pick him up like a bride. His hands immediately flail around and land around your shoulders, increasing his embarrassment tenfold.

His demands quiet down once the shock of the situation soaks in. His girlfriend is lifting him up and carrying him around like he weighs nothing. He has always been aware that you’re physically strong, but he didn’t know you were this strong!

Riddle usually won’t like being carried, but on the rare occasion, after a long day of school and his duties, he’ll ask for a piggyback ride back to his room. He’ll use a very standoffish tone while asking, but the way that he presses his head against the back of your shoulder lets you know he likes it.

Jack

He is so flabbergasted. Jack is in shock.

While he is aware that you’re into fitness—maybe the two of you even train together—he never knew you were this swole.

Jack is blushing; if you look close enough, his hands are shaking. He’s just realized he’s found the ideal woman for him—kind, gentle, who could break him in half like a pixie stick…

Bragging isn’t in his principles, but he might have to gloat a little bit with his track teammates when you’re literally running around with him thrown over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I mean, you’re not even exerting that much energy; he’s astounded!

Jack will (very quietly) ask for you to lift him again, just because he can’t believe it and he needs confirmation that he didn’t just make up the situation in his brain.

“Wanna join me for my morning run? It’ll be good cardio.”

Malleus

He’s getting the princess treatment. Very happy to know he’s your favorite lizard.

Since Malleus is very tall and imposing, he’s not used to such blatant displays of affection.

Having a physically stronger girlfriend would be a point of great pride for Malleus, particularly if you were a human, because then your strength would have been something you'd worked hard on. Something you’ve earned.

Being carried around is no problem for him; he may laugh a little at your strange human whimsy, but he happily agrees to being carried about at any time.

By any time, I mean any time. You could pick him up in the middle of a crowded campus hallway, and he’d just wrap his arms around you, place his head on your shoulder, and let you lead the way.

“Child of Man, be sure to drop me off at my alchemy class; perhaps I’ll let you pick me up and take me to Spelldrive Practice afterwords…”

Sebek

“How dare you, human!”

Sebek is appalled at the absolute gall you’ve got to have to do something so unabashedly romantic; don’t you see he’s too repressed for something so affectionate?

His face turns so red, and he tries to shake out of your ridiculously strong vice grip. Once he leaps off of you, get ready for an hour-long lecture. Sebek is shaking in his boots, explaining to you how inappropriate your actions were and how if you wanted his attention, there were better methods.

Midway through, he kind of realizes how hot it was that you were literally able to pick him up and carry him away like it was no problem, which makes Sebek quieter than you’ve ever seen him before, contemplating his words.

He quietly asks you to pick him up again because he wants to test your human endurance! (Ignore the way his eyes lock in on your defined shoulders, okay?)

[accio-victuuri]

everyone and their mom is talking about xz’s kadian of 18:21 so let’s learn a bit about it. cause what’s more well known in the fandom is 18:23. 18:21 means yibo love you or yibo loves you. it’s an interesting choice of kadian, tho we know it’s for mid autumn festival and an occasion xz always posts on. there are clowning thoughts among cpfs that wyb could visit him on set ; and looks like he did, basing on the kadian. and it doesn’t help that xz studio reposted on 18:25 yibo loves me.

i’m referencing this cpn archaeology post.

during cql promotions, wyb posted on 18:21 and the scene is drunk lwj. everyone’s favorite. i don’t think i have to explain why that scene is important, especially the part about chickens. how they used that to get away with wwx and lwj’s relationship. zz also posted on that night but people think he failed to kadian 21:21 love you love you as an answer. wyb made up for it tho by commenting under his post on 21:21 and then zz posted a meme/emoticon “wwx sad”

this was cql promotions and it’s normal for them to comment on each other’s post but what made this special is that yibo didn’t have to. zz’s post was about not drawing on other’s property, wyb’s comment was saying to not imitate. like. why? and on 21:21. moreover, that sad WWX? why are you sad? wyb just agreed with what you said. cpfs interpret this as him being sad that he missed the 21:21 kadian — and then yibo had to go in and do it himself.

then in 8/14/2020 which is a day before xz joined the ace troops crew for shooting — wyb posted two photos. (p1) showing of his shoes = xiezi = xz = xiao zhan and the kadian 33 zanzan. (p2) is where 18:21 comes in, with a photo of something he loves. you can argue that he was using that as an intentional kadian for the content of his post ( sidenote: meaning yibo knows how to kadian ). but this and the 33 kadian on the same day is sus. we all know what was happening that year and interpretation is wyb is happy that zz is joining the crew and cheering him on.

i guess the reason why people are so excited is because we haven’t seen it in a while. the way it had some notable incidents before and was overshadowed by other kadians/cpns. so it’s nice to to see it again ^^

BONUS: the photo had 5 mooncakes and yes, it’s from different brands. 5 is his and yibo’s number which is the day of their birth. but this is interesting too:

galaxy brain cpn for everyone 🌌

that’s all. everything is fake. in this fandom, kadian is one of those that is either you believe it or don’t. i understand why a lot of people find it questionable but don’t take it too seriously, just enjoy the cpns 💕

[callsign-mayhem]

heartbreak feels so good (part 2)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 3861 CW: Shitty ex-boyfriends, slow burn, angst, fluff

Part One Part Three

Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Use of Y/N, but no description of reader. THIS IS A MULTI-PART FIC.

The eerie silence of your apartment woke you that morning. Either it was never usually this quiet, or you just hadn’t noticed it when Elijah stayed over. There had been a few occasions over the weekend where you’d noticed differences like this, and you wondered when and if it got any easier to deal with. 

You had awoken with your childhood teddy bear tucked beneath your chin. Somewhat disoriented, you sat up and glanced around the room. Your phone was charging on your nightstand with a glass of water and a Post-It next to it. That’s when it hit you that Bradley had been here the night before. You must have fallen asleep on the sofa during your wallowing sesh, which meant he’d carried you to bed. Ted was staring at you accusingly as though he’d noticed how your heartbeat stuttered once, twice, and then righted itself. 

Burning with curiosity, you reached over and grabbed the orange Post-It, reading what you could only assume were Bradley’s words hungrily. His handwriting was atrocious, as wonky as his voice was raspy.

Getting Starbs. Be back soon x

Well, that explained that one. For the second morning in a row, you’d woken up feeling rough, although you didn’t feel as bad as yesterday. Yesterday, crawling out of bed had felt more like crawling out of the pits of hell. Today, you knew that Bradley was coming back with coffee—after having slept over—and while this was confusing, it gave you something to think about aside from Elijah. 

You took a cold shower to reset your central nervous system, using all your fancy products in an attempt to make yourself feel better. It only partially worked, so you decided to put on one of your favourite outfits, which had the tendency to make you appear more confident than you actually felt. Now seemed as good a time as any to buy into the fake it till you make it movement. 

When you ventured into the living room, you noticed that the nest you had built on the sofa was still intact, although it had been moved around slightly to serve as a makeshift bed. This must have been where Bradley spent the night after he’d tucked you in. Something about this was hard to accept, and as you stood there staring at the pillows and duvet, you tried to come up with an explanation as to why he’d stayed. As you cycled through the possibilities, the same part of your brain that believed you weren’t worthy of anyone better than Elijah started trying to convince you that Bradley was going to do the same thing he had. Or worse, he was just pitying you. 

These were the kinds of tricks your brain liked to play on you, and usually, it was successful, but this time you were interrupted. Someone was knocking on your front door, presumably Bradley, who didn’t have a key. It dawned on you too late that you’d given Bradley your spare yesterday evening when he’d told you he might go out and grab coffee in the morning, and you were turning the handle before you could really register what this meant. 

It had only been a few days, but you’d forgotten just how disarming Elijah was. He was standing in the hallway with a bunch of beautiful red roses, dressed in your favourite outfit of his: black cargos, one of his band tees and his beat-up Docs. You could smell his aftershave from where you stood, and he’d obviously had a haircut and beard trim before coming to see you. 

Both relief and dread flooded you simultaneously, and you were torn between slamming the door in his face or collapsing into his arms, flowers be damned. 

‘El,’ you croaked. ‘What’re you doing here?’

He smiled sheepishly, holding out the flowers so you could take them. They smelled like second chances and summer romance. ‘Went to that market we used to go to this morning and saw these. They made me think of you, so I thought you should have them.’

‘T-thanks?’

‘I know it’s out of the blue, but I thought we should talk.’ He said all of this so calmly— cool as a cucumber—as if this were the most natural thing in the world. As if you were going to discuss the weather and not his narcissistic tendencies. ‘I might have overreacted.’

You scoffed. ‘What was your first clue?’

Elijah rolled his eyes. ‘I didn’t come here to fight. I came to apologise, Y/N. Maybe there’s something here worth salvaging.’

And didn’t this happen every single time? He fucked up on a monumental scale, only realised because of your reaction, and apologised because he knew that’s what he was supposed to do, not because he saw any issues with his behaviour. He’d promise to work on it, you’d believe him, and then the cycle would start all over again. After dealing with it for a year, you were only just becoming aware of the ways he manipulated you, ways that would probably still work if you gave him enough time.

The scary part is that you were considering letting him despite the newly reawakened, sane part of your brain screaming at you not to.

‘Y/N?’ 

Oh God. No, no, no, no.

Bradley Bradshaw had materialised behind Elijah in all his golden glory, two coffees in hand, aviators perched on the tip of his perfect nose. He was wearing shorts and a black tank top, so clearly, he’d popped home to change clothes. To top it off, he was doused in a light sheen of sweat that glistened underneath the lights in the hallway. 

The sane part of your brain was relieved to see him, but the part that Elijah controlled was about to implode. Your hands felt clammy, and your throat was thick with nerves, making it incredibly difficult to talk. 

Elijah spun around. Even though he now had his back to you, you had a pretty good idea of what his face looked like. His shoulders tensed up and you watched him squeeze both of his hands into fists. 

‘What the fuck?’

‘El, it’s not what it looks like, he-’

Elijah spun around. His anger was an almost tangible thing. He’d always struggled with it, what with having undiagnosed and unmedicated ADHD, and it could be terrifying. He also liked using it as an excuse when he acted out, claiming he couldn’t help it. 

Bradley seemed relatively calm. You knew it was a front, that he wanted to rip Elijah’s head off, but that would end up hurting you, so he was reigning it in for your benefit. 

Elijah was glancing between you and Bradley, nostrils flaring and jaw set with anger. Briefly, you locked eyes with Bradley but couldn’t determine what emotions were hidden there.

‘Not that it’s any of your business, Viper,’ Bradley started. ‘But I’m here helping Y/N through a tough time. We’re friends, and that’s what friends do.’ 

‘Not sure why she’s having a tough time.’ Elijah spat. ‘I’m the one getting sent pictures of his girlfriend walking down the beach with another guy. Do you have any idea how that made me look?’ 

‘Maybe it should’ve been you, then. Oh, wait,’ Bradley smiled sarcastically. ‘You were too busy ghosting her because she went out with her friends.’

‘I don’t need to stand here and listen to this. Who the fuck do you think you are, man? This has nothing to do with you.’

‘Elijah.’ You warned.

‘And you’re defending this guy now, Y/N? What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘That’s enough.’

‘No, I’m not done. Because I wanna know what you think gives you the right-’

Bradley sidestepped Elijah and handed you the two iced coffees. You stood there dumbly, unable to do anything.

‘I’m her friend, that’s what gives me the right. I’m the one who’s gonna pick up all the fucking pieces.’

Elijah was trying to square up to Bradley, but he was a fair bit shorter, so it just looked pathetic. 

‘Pick up all the pieces of what? Her broken heart?’ Elijah laughed bitterly. ‘Boo fucking hoo. If she weren’t such a slut, we’d still be together. It’s her own fault.’

Bradley Bradshaw wasn’t a violent person. It was a last resort for him, so when he slammed Elijah into the wall, you knew it was because he’d been pushed way beyond his limit by that last comment. 

Elijah shoved Bradley off him and swung, clipping the side of his face and causing him to stagger back. Bradley took a second to right himself and, with a great heaving breath, swung back hard. You squeezed your eyes shut, but the sound of Bradley’s fist meeting Elijah’s nose was loud enough that you could still picture it vividly. It reminded you of the sound of gravel getting crushed underneath the tyres of the Bronco or the eggshells you’d spent the last year walking over to spare Elijah’s feelings. 

The sound seemed to snap you out of your helpless daze.

‘That’s enough!’ You yelled. 

The bin bag containing Elijah’s belongings was next to the front door so you’d remember to take it to work the next day. You grabbed it and threw it at Elijah, who just about managed to catch it before it hit him in the face. 

‘I don’t wanna see your face around here again.’ You said bitterly. ‘And I don’t want any rumours going around base about Bradley and me because this breakup is all your fault. You’re the one who couldn’t get his act together.’

‘And if you ever call her a slut—or anything else—again, I’ll make sure you never fly for the navy again.’

You meant every word of it, but it was still difficult to look Elijah in the eye one last time before he walked out of your life for good. It was hard because you’d still loved a version of this man, laughed, cried, and talked for hours with him. And if he’d managed to admit to a few of his shortcomings, work on them and maybe go to therapy for his unhealed trauma, you’d probably still be laughing, crying and talking with him. 

You would have probably married him. 

But he would never admit to having shortcomings, never take the time to work on things, and therapy was out of the question. Love is only a small part of what makes a relationship work, and when it came to your relationship with Elijah, your love for him was the only thing keeping it going. Most days, this wasn’t even enough. 

You half expected him to say something else, but he seemed to know better. Clutching the bin bag full of his belongings, Elijah skulked off down the hallway, and you watched uneasily until he disappeared around the corner, finally leaving you and Bradley alone.

You released a shaky breath, and Bradley pulled you into a hug so comforting that you just about melted. He smelled of sunshine, clean cotton, and Bleu De Chanel, and you had to refrain from inhaling. 

‘I leave you for half hour, and that dick shows up.’ Bradley murmured. 

You could hear the smile in his voice, which was also a comfort. After a scene like that, the last thing on Elijah’s mind would have been comforting you. Even though Bradley was the one physically hurt, his priority was still taking care of you and keeping the mood light so you didn’t start spiralling. 

Reluctantly you pulled away from Bradley, not because you wanted to, but because you thought he deserved some breakfast after his morning heroics. 

‘Did he get your eye?’ You asked, concerned. 

‘No,’ Bradley smiled reassuringly. ‘Almost, but no.’

Once back inside, you set about making breakfast. Bradley was glancing around, somewhat disorientated, and you briefly worried if he had a concussion.

‘You good, Roo?’

‘Yeah, what happened to the coffees?’

‘Oh, they’re on the side where I keep my car keys. By the door.’

Bradley fetched the coffee and sat in his usual spot at the kitchen island. He was unharmed, but it was evident in the way he wouldn’t meet your eye that something was on his mind. While you cooked the bacon—having deja vu from yesterday—you thought about the best way to approach the situation. Bradley was entitled to feel some type of way about what had just happened, and he was under no obligation to share said feelings with you if he didn’t want to. After all he’d done for you, he was entitled to a few private thoughts. But something about the brooding look on his face made it hard to leave well enough alone, and all of a sudden, you found yourself wanting to know every thought—good and bad—going on inside his pretty little head. 

You lowered the heat on the stove and turned around to grab your coffee, making a point of trying to meet Bradley’s eye. The contact lasted about three seconds before he refocused his attention on his coffee cup, which had suddenly become very interesting. This man had tells, and you were going to learn them all. 

‘What’s wrong, Bradley? You can talk to me, you know?’

He shook his head slightly. ‘Nothing.’

‘Bullcrap. You can tell when I’m not being honest about how I feel, and guess what? It’s a two-way street. And just like you encourage me to talk about what’s bothering me, I’m encouraging you to do the same.’ 

‘I’ve created a monster.’ Bradley grinned.

‘You have. It’s your own fault, Bradshaw.’

‘It’s not a big deal,’ he said, sipping his iced latte. ‘I’ve just been trying to imagine what would’ve happened if I didn’t come at that exact moment.’

Your stomach twisted. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You were holding roses. That look on your face, Y/N… I think if I didn’t come back when I did, you would’ve let him in.’ 

‘That’s…’

He was gazing at you expectantly. 

‘...Ridiculous.’ You finished. 

‘See, I really wanna believe that,’ he smiled sadly. ‘But I know you well enough to know that you’re lying.’ 

You turned back around to face the stove, partly because you needed to flip the bacon and get started on the eggs and partly because you couldn’t keep the agony off your face. Because Bradley was right as usual—as much as it pained you to admit it, you would have eventually let Elijah in. 

‘It’s not as black and white as that.’

Bradley’s eyes were burning holes in the back of your head. It was extremely off-putting.

‘I know, Y/N. Nothing is.’

This caught your attention. You spun around and pointed the spatula at him accusingly. 

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ You asked.

Bradley held his hands up. ‘Nothing, doll. I’m just agreeing with you.’

‘Nothing in life is simple,’ you murmured, opening the cupboard above you and taking the packet of bagels out. ‘No matter how much you wish it was.’

‘Just to be clear, I don’t blame you for wanting to let him in. He’s a manipulator, and he’s good at what he does. And you love with everything you have.’

‘Even when I shouldn’t.’

You heard Bradley sigh. ‘Y/N, I’m gonna tell you something, and I want you to really take it in, okay?’

‘Okay?’

‘Loving hard is never a bad thing, and you should never shrink your love to make it easier for people to digest. If you find yourself doing that, then the person you’re doing it for isn’t meant for you. The right people will always take your love as it comes, and you won’t have to change anything.’

 You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. ‘Like you. And Nat.’

‘Yes,’ he breathed, seemingly relieved that you were beginning to understand. ‘Just like me and Nat.’

Bradley Bradshaw was not in the business of denying you of anything, which is how he found himself curled up on your sofa for the second afternoon in a row, watching reruns of Gilmore Girls. The two of you had watched so many episodes that he knew the theme song by heart, and as catchy as it was, he only liked it because you sang it each time without fail. This was the happiest and calmest he’d seen you all weekend, which was surprising after Elijah’s surprise visit earlier that day. After quite the internal debate, he’d come to the conclusion that you needed to see him after the breakup, no matter how briefly, in order to start the process of moving on. 

Bradley was starting to fancy himself a love and relationship expert despite not having experienced it many times himself. Something about you and your particular situation made him feel he needed to monitor it, as though it were his job to make sure you emerged relatively unscathed. 

He glanced at you sideways, wrapped up in a pumpkin-covered throw with a mug of tea keeping your hands warm, and felt this innate need to protect you from the world and everyone in it. Especially Elijah. He couldn’t explain it, but it went further than friendship, possibly even further than love. 

Bradley was just about to suggest going for a walk to stretch your legs and get some air, but then the intercom started buzzing, causing the both of you to jump out of your skins. 

He reached and took your tea from you so you could get up without ending up wearing it. Whoever was waiting to be let in was pretty persistent, constantly buzzing until you managed to get to the front door and click the intercom.

‘Who is it?’ You asked, panting from the exertion. 

‘Natasha Trace, you know, the best friend you’ve been blanking all weekend.’ 

You cursed under your breath, pressing the release for the door. ‘Sorry, Nat. Come on up.’

It suddenly dawned on Bradley that he hadn’t updated Nat since sometime yesterday and that she was probably worried sick. She knew nothing about Elijah showing up at your apartment or the fact that Bradley had stayed over. The fact that he’d slept on the sofa wouldn’t matter to her when she found out. He’d never hear the end of it. 

You were hovering nervously by the door, clearly anticipating the same telling-off as Bradley. ‘I was supposed to call her last night,’ you told him. ‘And then I passed out on the couch.’

‘We’re both done for, Y/CS,’ he grinned. ‘It’s been super nice knowing you.’

Somehow—in the time it took her to get up the three flights of stairs to your front door—he managed to convince himself that she wouldn’t be that mad at the two of you. But when you opened the door, he could almost feel her anger, like heat rolling off her in waves. Before you could get a word out, she was pulling you in for a rough but well-meaning hug.

‘I was worried sick, Y/N.’

You relaxed into the hug and put your arms around her middle, squeezing reassuringly. ‘I’m sorry, Nat. I should have called.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘You should’ve. Last time I saw you, you were half-cut and running away from us at The Hard Deck.’ You stepped aside so she could come in. ‘You’ve got some explaining to-’

When Natasha noticed Bradley reclining comfortably on your couch, she stopped speaking. Bradley had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, and he wiggled his eyebrows at her teasingly. 

‘Hey, Nix.’ 

Briefly, she glanced at you and then back at Bradley. Then back at you, then back to Bradley.

‘Don’t ‘hey, Nix’ me, mister. You’ve been here all weekend?’

He shrugged apologetically. ‘Pretty much.’

‘No text? No call?’

‘Sorry. We were kinda preoccupied with wallowing and fighting Viper off.’

‘What do you mean fighting him off?’

With a great sigh, you traipsed over to the couch and collapsed back into your spot. ‘He showed up this morning with roses and the usual fake apology.’

Natasha was incredulous. She didn’t sit down, she just started pacing in front of the couch, Gilmore Girls still playing on the flat screen behind her. 

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yup, and it’s lucky I came back when I did,’ Bradley chimed in. ‘Y/N was gonna let him in.’

Natasha stopped pacing to glare at you. ‘You were gonna do what?’

You launched a throw pillow at Bradley’s head, which, fortunately for you, he didn’t manage to dodge. 

‘Hey!’ He huffed. ‘I’m not blaming you! We talked about this earlier.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘It wasn’t my finest moment, okay? I’ve been drinking his Kool-Aid for so long it’s gonna be a while before it’s all out of my system. So I guess Bradley really did come back at the right time.’

This didn’t seem to satisfy Nat, so you launched into a more detailed account of the past weekend, filling her in on everything except a few details about Bradley. Those you would save for when it was just the two of you. Halfway through, she perched herself on the edge of the coffee table, facing you and listening intently to what you had to say. By the end of it, she was literally seething with rage. This time, directed at your now ex-boyfriend. 

‘He ought to watch his back,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Cause if I see him on base, he’s gonna wish he’d never been born.’

The three of you ended up ordering pizza. At one point, you got up to go to the bathroom, and Natasha took the opportunity to grill Bradley some more. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Only surprised that it had taken her this long. 

She started the interrogation by smacking the back of his head.

‘What was that for?’ He hissed.

‘That’s for going after your best friend when she’s just had her heart broken.’

‘What makes you think I’m going after her?’

Nat pretended to think about this. ‘Hmmm, let me see… Maybe because you’ve slept here two nights in a row, and I walked into you cuddled up on her couch drinking fucking cocoa!’

‘It was tea, actually. And I slept out here both nights. Just didn’t want her to be alone.’

She relented, but only slightly. ‘Still, you need to cool it. She’s probably feeling all kinds of confused right now, and she doesn’t need you and your big puppy dog eyes making things even more complicated.’

He smiled despite himself. ‘You think I have big puppy dog eyes?’

She glared at him witheringly. ‘Is missing the point a personality trait of yours?’

‘Nix, will you calm down? I’m not going after her, I’m not confusing her, and I’m not making things difficult with my big eyes. I’ve been giving her advice, helping her through the worst of it. That’s all.’

Natasha softened, satisfied that Bradley was telling the truth. The toilet flushed, and the bathroom door opened, so they’d have to finish this conversation some other time. But before you came back, Natasha whispered one last thing…

‘I know you love her, Bradley. I know you always have. But you have to give her some time.’

End of part 2. Final part coming soon!

Taglist: primroseluna eloquentdreamer sgt-barnesveins daybleedsintonightfa11

[cythiraeth]

cupid's chokehold! - i. e. the moment genshin men knew they've fallen for you

✧ ─ ⌑ pairing: gn!reader x al-haitham, cyno, xiao (separate)

✧ ─ ⌑ short summary: the exact moment (or process which lead to it) when genshin men knew that they are head over heels in love with you!

✧ ─ ⌑ about the work: lowercase, fluff, not proof-read, lighter (?) and more free form of the work this time!

✧ ─ ⌑ notes: ehe, long time no see! i'm back to life and posting, so to start i picked something that was easier to write and is slightly in a different form than my previous works, however, i hope you'll like it :> also, i'm still waiting for any work requests, so if you have any idea, feel free to messege me!!

✧ ─ ⌑ word count: 1.5 k in total

 al-haitham

seeing you in a pretty, elegant outfit, probably some kind of dress or suit, maybe showing your collarbones or it just being mesmerizing,  it's up to you how you imagine a perfect fit ;) he is just PHYSICALLY UNABLE to take his eyes off you! the usually calm and collected al-haitham forgets how to use the ability to speak for a brief second.

the moment you left the room in which you were getting ready as he was waiting outside, he almost gasped out loud

i mean literally, this man's brain stopped working for a second

you two were supposed to attend tighnari's birthday party, and while he didn't consider it a occasion to wear something elegant, you did the opposite 

that's why he was left so speechless. because he was caught by surprise! he thought you would wear your casual clothes just as he did…

but it happened, you wore one of your favorite outfits for special occasions, and he was flabbergasted 

of course it's not like your look was the only reason he has fallen for you! he was definitely considering it many times before this happened, but he was living in denial.

"no, i don't actually have feelings for them. they make me feel comfortable, i crave hearing their voice or laugh and i care about them a lot, but no, we're just friends" - probably al-haitham to himself at some point in his life.

but this time, he couldn't explain his feelings in any rational way known to man. you were so stunning that his eyes shined uncontrollably when he laid them on you. he was so busy studying your silhouette, your face and your hair that he didn't even hear your first question, which was:

"and? how do i look?" you asked, opening the door but still keeping your hands on the doorframe and leaning on it. you were slightly blushed because it was quite embarrassing to let him see you like this, but if you were to be honest, you were also a little bit excited to see his reaction

so when he didn't even answer you and remained indifferent on the outside, the slightly raised corners of your mouth drooped

you just weren't aware of what he's been experiencing on the inside…

because his heart started pounding a little bit faster and he was ashamed of it but on the other hand you looked gorgeous and he couldn't stop himself from thinking about what would he do if you were in relationship

(he had such a strong urge to kiss your hand like a gentleman for some reason)

"what? do i really look that bad?" you asked after you have swallowed the bitterness of your first impression

"sorry?" he said, blinking, your words drawing him out of his reverie, "did you say something?" 

you snorted, annoyed by his behavior, assuming that he probably couldn't care less about your look at the moment, but at least he should try to pretend he does 

but oh, how wrong you were…

when you repeated the question he only murmured something under his breath in response, so you decided to let him be

you noticed he got sweaty all of sudden, it was probably too hot for him inside, you thought, so you took the last things and you two left the house.

in reality, he wasn't feeling hot because of the temperature of course, but he was just as surprised by his own actions as you were. surprised in a slightly different way though….

cyno

talking with tighnari... he found all his confidence to talk to him about his possible feelings for you, that he could not recognize and tighnari was left speechless because of how innocent and lost in his feeling cyno looked

he was probably hanging out with tighnari someday, maybe they went out for a dinner, and somehow the topic of conversation has come down to you

for a long time he was hesitant to talk about his feeling towards you out loud but today he decided he'd try discussing it with his friend

because if not tighnari then who would be a suitable person? surely not you 

also, don't think that he was aware of what he's feeling. HAHA, no. he would never 

"what in your opinion y/n thinks of me…?" was his first question. he tried to choose the words carefully and say it in his normal tone but even a small sign of arousal in his voice was enough for tighnari to notice that something is up

"and why are you asking?" he wanted to make sure that his interpretation is right

"no reason in particular," his answer was quick, those words escaped his lips uncontrollably, so he had to add something "i just consider them a close friend and i want to know if they do too."

tignari almost started laughing out loud, but he controlled himself.

close friend? oh man, he is so clueless…

"are you sure that they are a "close friend?"" he was actually having some fun but at the same time he just wanted to smack himself on the forehead, he couldn't decide 

"well, definitely not a "distant friend"" 

that's it, that's the moment when tighnari smacked his forehead 

"i'll pretend i didn't hear that," he tried to be serious, but it wasn't easy. "listen, you look at them like they are your entire world. that's the kind of look people give to their lovers, not close friends!" he finally said it out loud

cyno had to blink twice to process what was just said.

he. in love. with you? 

maybe? i mean, he always cared about your opinion about his jokes the most and he wanted to spend as much time as possible with you… but he thought that it's normal for friends to feel this way. and to steal glances at you person when you aren't looking, and to read every book you recommend him…

"you say so?" he finally asked, resting his chin on his hands "then maybe you're right," he admitted out loud

"FINALLY" tighnari couldn't hold it any longer… he was SO relieved that his friend won't be acting like he is running around in the fog anymore… right?

"and why are you so emotional about it?" cyno was genuinely confused (pls help this man he is often so clueless)

"because by now even collei knew"

xiao

 when you kept coming back after all of his attempts to push you away. he wanted to protect you, protect you from him, because for a human it would be better to stay away from his karmic debt, right? but when you remained determined to get closer to him no matter how many times he tried to disencourage you, he slowly realized that maybe, just maybe he can let you get closer to his heart than he ever let anyone to be.

in his case, there wasn't any particular situation that made him realize his feelings, it was rather a complex and long process (not really a chokehold then but shh…)

he knew you for several months despite of his numerous attempts of cutting any ties he had with you

it was just that… you were stubborn. but not in a regular way, no. your stubbornness was much less invasive and annoying, and it manifested in your constant willingness to get closer to him

however, you never imposed yourself nor did you try convincing him! you were just visiting wangshu inn regularly, maybe tried striking up a conversation a few times, even just sitting in silence was enough for you

and because of all those actions he never felt overwhelmed by your presence! actually, after some time, he just got used to it and secretly started liking it

however, there was always this silent voice in the back of his head that he shouldn't be doing this and that he's forgetting himself

so definitely, when he slowly started thinking of you in that way at the very beginning he was IN SUCH A BIG DENIAL that it's almost unbelievable 

alright, he admitted it to himself, but swore to N E V E R talk to anyone about it, especially and above all, to you.

he just decided to act as if those feelings didn't exist, that's all. and it went like that for quite a long time unfortunately… (at least you can be sure that he keeps his promises at all costs!!)

and after some time, when he was surprised that they didn't just go away, a certain thought crossed his mind…

he started thinking about what ifs and imagining what could happen if he theoretically decided to tell you about his feelings 

(he spent another few months on that though)

at some point he just couldn't look at you without seeing you both holding hands in his mind or stand next to you without the urge to put his hand on your shoulder (of course only in private, he would never do pda…)

but still, his karmic debt… 

he was so torn between those two thoughts (there were two wolves inside of him)

but as you expect, after months of his internal struggling, and your consistency in getting closer to him and encouraging him to open up, he let his feelings win for once in his long life

(take good care of him because he deserves it)

⌞⌑ cythiraeth - 23.11.2023. please, do not copy, claim as yours or share outside tumblr! ⌑⌝

[daistea]

regarding the possessive obsessive bf mithrun i imagine its to be expected that someone who hasnt had any desires for ?? years would get kinda intense abt the things theyre cultivating the ability to feel desire for !

RIGHT?? take my hand, walk into the light with me..

//Spoilers

Honestly, I headcanon that he was like that before the dungeon too. To an extent. There’s this post I like that implies that Mithrun didn’t actually truly love the elf girl from before, he just wanted to possess her because, you know, insecurity and complexes and brother issues.

He wanted to be loved, to possess, to feel worthy. I think that definitely could lead into possessiveness.

the most gorgeous boy in the world 🫣 kiss kiss smooch smooch, my little walking red flag

Anyway, post-demon those feelings go away. He still has emotions and a personality obviously. There’s still glimpses of who he was, but he doesn’t care about the old insecurities. They’re not there anymore. The inferiority complex is gone. He’s just Mithrun, demon killing machine, living only for one thing. I mean it’s canon that he’s already obsessive.

(I know the word ‘obsessed’ being used here is probably just translation liberties, but the idea still remains. If it’s genuinely ‘obsessed’ in Japanese though, I’ll be very pleased.)

I do think it’s possible to have a relationship with him at this point, but it won’t be conventional— that’s true of any relationship with him at any point in his life though. You’ll always be second. He’s not as invested, not as possessive, but I do think that’s just a natural part of his personality as well and it would still pop up on occasion.

THE MOST EVEN GORGEOUSER BOY IN THE WORLD 🥺 kiss kiss smooch smooch

Post-canon Mithrun has decided to live, to help make the broth in a stew or soup, to find use in himself. Yay!

I like the idea of Mithrun deciding to spend his life with someone simply because he enjoys their company, but my favorite thought is him developing a new desire— it’s not a simple desire for a relationship, though. It’s a desire for you. It’s very specific.

When Mithrun develops a new desire, he can’t ignore it. He needs it. He needs every ounce of it. If this desire is for a specific person, then he wants every ounce of them. This possessiveness doesn’t necessarily come from insecurity or inferiority like it used to. It’s from desperation and excitement. He trusts you. If he gets jealous it’s not because he thinks you’re going to cheat, it’s because he sees it and thinks, “They’re mine. Nobody else is allowed to have them.” It’s offensive that someone would even try to take you from him.

He wants his desire close to him. He’s clingy. He’s absolutely shameless. He doesn’t hide his feelings, but he doesn’t really say them out loud either, that’s just not how he rolls. He shows his feelings through actions. Are those actions genuinely unhinged sometimes? Yes.

You’ve got a friend who’s kinda worried that this elf guy is getting too attached? Mithrun has Cithis brain wash your friend into supporting your relationship so they don’t try to get in the way. Is that morally wrong? Don’t care didn’t ask

You want to do something very dangerous? Too bad, you’re getting tied to a chair so you can’t leave. Kick and scream all you want, he’s not risking losing you.

And he does it all with a straight face and no dramatics, too. They’re very normal things for him to do, obviously.

He’s very normal about you, obviously.

He wants every bit of your attention, every touch, every second, every year you have to offer. Does he say that out loud? No. But he wants it.

And when Mithrun actually wants something, he’s going to meticulously tear apart the stars one by one to get it. He hasn’t really wanted anything in 40-ish years. Doesn’t he deserve it?

[radiant-reid]

omg cate the dad bod!spencer post😭 could u please write smth about that but like, not him being insecure about it because i see that all the time! but him using his new weight and filled out form to pin his gf/wife on the bed, face down and just breed her <3

i was a couple mojitos deep when i wrote this

Spencer Reid is so hot.

It's the only thing you're thinking about while he's undressing in the walk-in wardrobe without the door closed, leaving so many beautiful inches of his body to your sight.

The heat inside you is definitely his fault.

"Did you see Belle's art this morning?" He asks as he walks through the door, looking absolutely delectable, only dressed in pants that hang low around his hips.

"Mhm." You mumble, pretending to be reading your book.

Spencer catches you ogling him. It would be practically impossible not to, especially for a profiler who has lived with you for years. "What's your pretty little brain thinking about?" He walks closer to the bed slowly.

"You." It's the honest truth that he knows, and there's not much else to say.

His gloating grin grows as he walks across the room to the foot of the bed, climbing on and crawling up the bed. It gives you the perfect view of his body, where his chest is softer now, his stomach protrudes more, and he's filled out. It's so attractive. Your legs fall open under the covers, letting him stop in between them.

"Yeah? What do you want with me, baby?" He asks.

"Spencer, don't." You hit him on the shoulder, predictably shying away from telling him what you want. "You know what I want."

"Tell me." He growls.

You glide your palm down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his pajama pants. "Another baby." You say before you can help it, which is not the answer either of you expected.

He doesn't flinch at the confession, his eyes darkening. He leans in to meet your lips for a quick kiss. "You're serious?"

"Very serious." You assure him. "We can handle two, right?"

Spencer doesn't miss a beat in nodding. "Yes." He answers. "No more discussion needed."

He works quickly once you nod, grabbing your hips and flipping you over. You pull the covers off, lifting your ass off the bed and pressing your hips against his, where you can feel the evidence of how much he wants you.

"Needy, baby." He coos, hands gliding up under your tank. His wide palms press into your sides while his gorgeous long fingers spread across your stomach.

“Could say the same thing about you.” You bite back, reaching behind yourself and making contact with the hard length in his pants. “Did I do this?”

He groans as you touch him, easily being distracted from getting you undressed. “You’re the only person in the world that can do this.” He tells you lowly.

“Prove it, Spence.” You request, challenging him. “Put a baby in me.”

It acts like an accelerant to the fire inside him and in one swift move, your sleeping shorts are being tugged down you legs, flung across the room.

“First time last time, you know?” He reminds you, still feeling cocky about it. “Think I can do it again? Because I know I can.”

You scoff, determined to tease him to ensure you get the best sex possible. “You’ve got no way of knowing if it was the first time.”

It’s true that you don’t technically know since back then you were having sex so much your daughter could have been convinced on a number of occasions, but you’re both confident it was the first time.

Where you’re expecting words from him, you get actions first. His weight pins you to the bed as his hips rest on top of yours, and it makes you let out a moan without him even touching you. “Wanna try that again?” He offers.

You shake your head into the pillows. “Stop teasing.” You scold when he slots his thigh between your thighs, softly brushing your dripping core with his pant leg.

“You know I’ll always give you what you want.” He promises. He draws his thumb through your wet folds, making you moan as he hums in satisfaction. “Warm up round?” He offers.

Adamantly, you shake your head. “For round two. I need you inside me now.”

He does what you ask, lining himself up and gliding into you in one swift motion. “Fuck.” He groans instantly. You can’t see him put you know that he’s throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Feels so good.” You agree.

It’s not just his cock hitting inside you at the perfect angle. It’s how good he feels on top of you, how his gorgeous body molds so perfectly onto yours.

You muffle your loud moans in the pillow, absolutely not wanting to get caught and have to stop the intense pleasure all over your body.

“God, I want to put a baby in you so badly.” He groans, on hand sneaking back under your tank to touch your nipples.

“Do it.” You plead, rolling your hips against his when he thrusts fully inside you.

He dips his head so his breath is right against your neck before starting to kiss your skin. He speeds up, pounding his hips against yours each time.

“Spencer!” You moan out his name followed by a trail of expletives.

“I know, baby. I know.” He coos softly against your ear. “Touch yourself.” He prompts and you struggle slightly under his weight to draw your fingers to your clit. “Help me make you cum.”

You’re over the edge in seconds, pleasure waves pulsing through you and all your senses focusing on how good it feels.

“Fill me up, Spence.” You beg, tangling your hand in his hair.

He pants against your neck as he stills, releasing cum deep inside of you while he moans out your name.

He falls forward onto you, slightly sweaty chest sticking to you, as you both come down from your highs together. His weight grounds you and it’s warm like being hugged by him.

“That was so good.” You declare, catching your breath.

He nods in agreement. “Love any chance I get to fill you up.” He kisses your shoulder. “And make more perfect babies with you.”

“I just love you.”

[stoutguts]

ADHD/neurodivergent 🧼 (💀🧼 too bc why not/it's my comfort ship and I love them)

(chock full of my own personal HCs and ideas, also mental health stuff/issues/problems heyo)

I am most definitely all for autistic Ghost, but what about ADHD brain/neurodivergent Soap? I've seen few people talk about this or explore it so here we go.

Like, even though Johnny's generally laid back, he still tends to be very hyper or high-strung. Maybe even overwhelming for some people, and is easily excited almost like a puppy (golden retriever Soap my beloved), (Ghost thinking it's literally the cutest thing ever). Bro has either the attention span of a nat or is so hyper-focused on something he forgets to blink.

He has APD (auditory processing disorder),—and will ask you to repeat yourself 15+ times before he finally understands what your saying. This is incredibly frustrating for him, but like Price will lose his shit, because having to repeat himself is like one of his pet peeves lmao.

Even Ghost and Gaz get fed up with him on occasion. Gaz will give him the silent treatment and refuse to talk to him. Usually when Simon finally gets irritated with him it's lead to a fight. But it isn't long before Ghost feels bad and apologizes, and reassures him saying "I know you can't help it". Simon tries to work on learning to be more patient specifically for him. 💕

He does the same things that Simon does to stim, (though particularly pacing and bouncing his leg). But he also likes to chew on everything, whether it’s a pen/pencil, a cap off a water bottle or other plastic drink bottle—(This pisses off Simon in particular, and they’re always scolding him about how he’s gonna end up choking on it. Not to mention, he always leaves the nasty ass, spit-covered things around and forgets to throw them away after he’s done with one. Either leaving Ghost to pick up after him much to his disgust, or forcing Johnny to throw his own shit away, (as he should). If he gets ahold one of those spiky silicone balls from an arcade machine he likes to bite the nibs on it, etc. Simon has even bought him some chewlery because he orally stims so much, to which Soap uses all the time and was overjoyed when Ghost first got it for him. Though his chewlery needs to constantly be replaced because Johnny has unusually strong and sharp teeth. It’s not uncommon for him to completely destroy shit that he gets his paws on. Simon often comparing him to a dog or a teething puppy.

I am also totally for Johnny being just as mentally fucked as Ghost.

He’s the four b's, bisexual, bipolar, bilingual, and a bitch.

Like Simon, Johnny has generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), for similar or for maybe even the same reasons as Ghost. Not nearly to the same level of severity, but panic attacks and flashbacks do happen on occasion. As with certain things he's easily triggered.

He also struggles with bipolar disorder and/or severe manic depression. His bipolar tendencies making it incredibly difficult to maintain relationships in his youth, among many other things, (his past drug abuse/addiction only making him worse and more unstable). Though these days he’s medicated and for the most part stable, only sometimes going off his meds, (particularly when he relapses or is heavily triggered by something).

No therapist has ever been able to help Soap, though he does see a psychiatrist regularly.

Mostly for anti-psychotics and other prescription refills and the like, but can vent as much as he likes to them. Either that, or Simon doesn't mind lending an ear to listen when he needs it.

Similar to Ghost, Johnny can have very low self-esteem, but can also be of very high self-esteem, (it fluctuates due to his manic depression). And Simon is more than willing to give him reassurance and comfort, but equally doesn't mind knocking him off his high-horse, and/or, taking down his ego a few pegs if need be. (Which isn't so bad, as Johnny just so happens to have a degradation kink). >:3

I’ve slightly/sort of mentioned this before in a previous post/rant, but for a more in depth look; Johnny is a highly reserved person, (though he’s able to put on a mask/a show for other people and strangers), and pretty stoic (all things considered), due to his traumatic upbringing. He has a very unhealthy habit of bottling up his emotions until he quite literally explodes, though he's trying to get better about that. But he can’t help but genuinely let his guard down, and has LEARNED to let his guard down around Ghost, the 1-4-1, and his sisters (the most important people in his life).

This tidbit has less to do with mental health and rather his personality but I still wanted to include it here so…

Soap is highly perceptive and emotionally intelligent. You can't hide anything from him as he can always tell when someone's lying to him, and he always knows when something's wrong. A true empath. He's also a very good liar himself because of this, but he uses this secret power responsibly, and would never lie to those closest to him and/or his loved ones.

All members of the 1-4-1 having highly specific phobias? Yes please.

As for Johnny…

He is deathly afraid of needles and hospitals (Trypanophobia and Nosocomephobia), because when he was growing up and as a young kid he was quite sickly, and often was in and out of the hospital. He's immunocomprised and gets sicks all the time, most of the time nowadays when he gets sick it's just a small cold, with the occasional illness that may put him out of commission for a bit—Simon always doting over him and making sure he’s okay when he even so much as senses he’s got a runny nose—Johnny finding it incredibly endearing, but when he was a child it was horrible. When he was hospitalized he'd suffer at the hands of doctors and nurses much too often, going through one too many traumatic experiences. Mostly, because of incompetence or just straight up apathy. Getting his IV done is the worst, because he's cursed with almost non-existent and small veins. Oh so jealous, of Ghost's huge and bulging veins. Someone will stick him upwards of 10 times or more, or until his arms are swollen, until they finally get it right usually. Not to mention, Johnny also has Hemophilia, and so he bleeds a lot which only makes it even more distressing. Soap specifically underwent medical and first-aid training, just so he could avoid going to medical himself as much as possible. His medical knowledge and training has happened to pay off lots of times in the field, for himself or for his teammates or squad’s sakes. Despite his aversion, he's not squeamish at all when it comes to mending his own wounds, or others weirdly enough. Even if he's severely injured he refuses to go to medical. Simon used to get really mad at him for this, because of not only his stubbornness, but seemingly his cockiness was what really pissed him off. And they know Johnny’s skills only go so far, and he's immunocomprised and a hemophiliac for crying out loud. Eventually Ghost confronted him about this, and after Soap explained everything it was a lot more understanding and sympathetic. Though it didn’t change the fact that it will borderline harass him if he’s seriously hurt and won’t go help himself, or just straight up force him to go to medical. Johnny always protests but ultimately he gives in, and Simon makes sure to give him emotional support and stay with him when he needs patched up.

Thank you for reading my ramblings, next post will be about my take on Ghost, his mental health, his autism, etc, probably!

[whitehotwild]

OKAY!!! so these are the ex!butcher x reader/OC(?) x logan headcanons/sort of a prologue/brief outline of the story!

AN: PLEASE let me know if you'd rather read a 'x reader' story or an ‘OC x reader’ story!!!!

OKAY!!! so this will read like a canon divergence AU (aurbviously).

Butcher was never on the brink of fucking DYING from temp v, he never killed Victoria and he never got powers.

BUT he is spiraling, that mean part of his brain (kessler) has just sort of taken over and made him kinda lose grip on what actually matters, Butcher wants everyone with powers dead, but especially Homelander.

(I’ve kinda been thinking about actually making this post Homelander death, and THEN Butcher spirals way way way out of control wanting basically a superhuman genocide, let me know what you think about that)

ALSO, Supes and Mutants exist as two separate things in this universe. Supes came after Mutants because Frederick Vought realized that these superpowered beings could be capitalized upon, but he knew if he used mutants they might end up rebelling, so going about making his own Superhumans was a safer option in his mind. Mutants are born, Supes are made.

Mutants distance themselves from Supes, knowing they usually end up being more trouble than they’re worth.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters does not accept Supe students, they did for a while at the very beginning, but Charles quickly realized that, for whatever reason, Supes and Mutants just do not get along on most occasions.

OKAY!!! SO NOW THAT THE GEEK TALK IS DONE, HERE’S THE STORY DETAILS

You/OC were a college intern at Vought that Homelander had his sights set on. He sort of coerced you into a relationship/situationship that lasted for about a year and was quite was toxic (bc like�� it’s homelander).

While that went on Butcher knew of you bc of how obsessively he kept tabs on HL.

Butcher was planning on killing you to hurt HL, but then when he realized things had ended he knew you’d be more use to him alive than dead.

you were recruited to The Boys around the same time as Hughie, maybe a bit before.

you and Butcher don’t get together until after Becca dies, at first you’re really just mostly a object of comfort and escape for him, it’s way more serious for you than it is for him.

very Casual by Chappel Roan vibes

very Sharpest Tool by Sabrina Carpenter vibes

BUT the longer you stick around the more genuinely attached Butcher gets

There’s this sweet spot from almost a year in to a few months before the end of your relationship, it lasts about 2 years itself, you and Butcher are together for nearly 3 years.

during that sweet spot Butcher starts meaning it when he says "i love you"

near the end of those 3 years is when Butcher starts to become utterly obsessed with the whole “taking down homelander/supe genocide” thing.

he gets meaner, not to you specifically, just in general. he’s less affectionate, doesn’t spend as much time with you, only really initiates intimacy when he wants it, otherwise kinda brushes off your advances.

anytime you try to bring up these issues or his recent behavior you’re quickly shut down with a firm, “Let it be, love.”

you start spending more time away from the apartment, outside of work you try to fill your time with either hanging out with friends or going to the bar.

one night, you’re out with Annie and a few of your other friends at a little dive bar uptown.

you wanna play pool but none of your friends want to play, annie suggests you just go ask someone.

you’re a few drinks deep, not enough to make you drunk, just enough to instill a nice coat of confidence around you.

so, you see this man sitting at the bar, leather jacket draped over the back of his barstool, a cigar in one hand, a glass of what you assume is probably whiskey sitting in front of him, and you have no problem going up to him.

you ask him if he wants to play a game with you, and at first he tries to shoo you off, but unfortunately for him, you’re persistent.

there’s an instant connection between the you and the man, who you learned is called Logan.

he tries to ignore whatever nice feelings you spark up inside him, he’s got this lone wolf thing going on and he doesn’t need you, this pretty young thing, coming along and ruining it for him… is what he tells himself.

you promised him at first that it would only be one game, but after he beat you, you demanded a rematch, and by the end of the night you had played at least a few games.

you say your goodbyes and Logan assumes he’ll never see you again because that’s just the way things go. he tries to ignore the soft pang of disappointment in him, brushing it off as one of those rare occurences where he actually does feel a bit lonely… he’d never say that out loud.

you come back at the same time exactly a week later, this time by yourself, after a long week of dealing with the brick wall Butcher has put between the two of you.

Logan tries to ignore the way his heartbeat picks up just a bit when he sees you, he’s almost a bit annoyed that you came back, he was just starting to shake the memory of you that he couldn’t seem to forget like how he can the others.

you play pool again and open up to each other, even if it’s just the slightest bit.

this becomes a weekly occurrence, you and logan become “friends” (more so acquaintances that hang out once a week only at the bar for a few hours).

ANYWAYS!!! i’m gonna stop here so i don’t just write the whole story in bullet format, but this is the basic outline of the first bit of the story. literally only gonna write this if people actually want to read something like this, and it’ll also take me a while because i’m in the process of moving SO, pleathe be patient for i am just a little guy.

[bananayuyu]

Between the Blinds

Pairing: Yeosang x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: Your favorite coworker is handsome, but oh so quiet. It's not until you stumble upon a lewd scene at work that you understand who he really is.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, masturbating at work, handjob

A/n: I absolutely love ateez in suits so that is what I imagined for this entire fic. Also, I would generally advise against many of the things that happen in this fic, but it is certainly fun to fantasize. Hope you enjoy! :)

Yeosang was by far your favorite coworker.

From the moment you met you felt a spark there when your eyes met, like a tiny thread suddenly stretched between your brains so you could feel and think everything he was feeling and thinking. He was quiet, the quietest in the office. He worked in a small office on his own, at his request. He was smart and efficient, and the boss liked him. So did everyone else, from a distance. He didn't let anyone in and never socialized; no one really knew him or knew much about his life. All they knew was his stunning face, his perfectly shaped body, and on the occasion when he had to use it, his deep and expressive voice. Many people in the office were in love with him; it was a regular topic of conversation.

It was your first real job post-college, your first true taste of independence. You had always been so responsible, getting straight As and going to bed at 10pm sharp. Your life was impressive from the outside but lacked intrigue, and you knew you were prone to daydreaming and delusion to keep yourself entertained. It was something almost no one knew about, and you had no intention of changing that. Your infatuation with Yeosang, and especially your certainty that he felt the same, was something you kept to yourself.

It started the second day. You were in the kitchen making coffee first thing in the morning. As you stood in front of the machine you yawned and closed your eyes, oblivious to Yeosang entering. He moved quietly, as he did everything quietly. You were wearing a fitted black top and tight black slacks, the shape of your body on full display. Yeosang just kept staring at you from the side, his eyes scanning your body, your thighs and your hips, and finally landed on your chest. His reaction to you was visceral and uncontrollable, taking him by surprise. He gulped as you finally looked over to him, clearly catching him checking you out. You looked at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, confused if you saw what you thought you did.

"Sorry, sorry." The words tumbled out of him. He turned and walked away, a blush beginning to spread over his cheeks. You looked down to see his coffee mug on the counter, still empty. Filling it, you couldn't help but smile at the way your body felt warm, his look of lust replaying in your head.

"Come in," he says when you knock on his door, his mug of coffee in your hand.

"You forgot your coffee," you say.

"Oh, you didn't have to. Thank you, though," he responds, this time more smoothly.

"It's Yeosang, right?" you ask, having not forgotten since your introduction the day before but wanting to make conversation.

"Yes. And you're y/n, right?" he responds.

"Yeah. I started yesterday."

"I hope everyone has been welcoming so far."

"Oh yes. They all say you never talk to anyone, though. Is that true?"

Yeosang's eyes widen, caught off guard by how direct you are. "Well, yes, generally. But you can always come knock if you have a question. I'm just not really, well, very social. I prefer to work on my own."

"That's fair," you say, staring at his perfect lips, at the way his nose slopes so gently. He probably can't deal with unwanted attention, you imagine. But he stares back and you feel it, that first tug of the thread connecting your minds, your own cheeks suddenly flushing just as his are. "I like being around people, sometimes," you say, knowing the words are clumsy and so simple but needing something to say. The little office feels warm and you feel yourself melting, wanting nothing more than to live in this moment forever. But suddenly another knock sounds on the door.

"Come in," Yeosang responds, just as before. Your bosses head appears around the door, and your chest suddenly tightens. He asks Yeosang a quick question and reintroduces the two of you; you catch a slight look of amusement Yeosang gives you, at the way your boss is being overly professional.

And that's how it began, always a bit awkward, always a bit tense. There was the time you thought you saw a bug in the kitchen and screamed and grabbed his arm, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up that day because someone had cranked the heat too high. Your hand on his arm felt electric, the skin to skin contact even more intoxicating than you could imagine. Then there were the notes, little jokes or observations he left for you on your desk. Always tucked under your coffee mug at the corner of your desk. And your responses, always laid on top of the stacks of paper you had to bring him. There was the time he asked you to print something for him, then came into the printer room and stood right behind you, reaching over to grab something on a shelf above. You had heard him enter the room that time and tried to move out of the way but he held you in place with one hand on your waist and you stood frozen, feeling the tense muscles of his chest and abdomen against your shoulders. There were the early mornings which no one but you two volunteered for, when clients from oversees wanted to video conference at a certain time or meet last minute in the office before a flight. As he made you both coffee you sat on the counter next to him, your eyes roaming his face.

"What do you want?" he'd ask, rolling his eyes.

"You, duh," you would say sarcastically, but you were only half joking, of course. He would laugh, a rare sight and one you felt priviledged to see. "I'm just making sure you make my coffee right, dummy."

"I always make your coffee right, smart-ass," he'd reply.

"Fine, I'll leave you to it then," you'd say, jumping off the counter and sauntering away. It was always fun, always got you excited. You barely even needed the caffeine to be awake for those early morning meetings, as long as Yeosang was there.

It continued like this for a while, for longer than you expected. You weren't really sure where it would head or what could even come of it. For one, you worked together. And your interactions were still sometimes awkward or stilted; though it was almost more endearing, it also made you wonder if he even liked you. Or if you were just two coworkers, joking around to pass the time. Regardless, your feelings grew and grew, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. When you asked your best friend what to do, she recommended being a bit bolder.

"Who cares if you work together, you probably won't in a year. It's not like you're gonna be there forever. And if you really like him... just go for it."

"I do," you said, sighing. Sighing, because when did this situation get so complicated? For you, emotionally, that is. It was all so fun usually. But you felt something building inside you, and realized you really did care. It was less than wholesome, you had to admit. And you wanted it, wanted him badly. It wasn't like you often came across people who you found so damn attractive.

So you decided to do something about it.

The next week you wore your favorite long sleeve t-shirt, one that's hem came right below your belly-button, hugging your body just the way you liked. It was a little casual for your current job, but that didn't matter. The slight strip of skin that showed above your pants was suddenly cold as you entered the office in the early morning, another morning with just Yeosang. As you made coffee you waited for him, and finally he entered, later than you expected. He was hard to read but if any word described him that day he seemed distant. He took one look at you and did a double take, his tired eyes passing over your outfit. He looked almost disapproving, and it made you laugh. Once again he was unable to take his eyes off you and you felt sure, if only for a moment, that he liked you too. But that itself wasn't enough.

"You did your buttons wrong," you say, walking up to him and unbottoning a few on his shirt, the words a complete lie. He looked completely professional and put together, as he always did. But you wanted to touch him, you needed to see his reaction. You redid the buttons and smoothed the shirt down over his torso, then ran a hand along his arm and redid the button on his cuff. You could feel his body tensing, and heard him gulp. You looked up at him, his pupils larger than you expected in the brightness of the office. And then you ran your hand up to his chest and felt his heart beat, strong and very fast.

"Your heart is racing, are you that nervous for our meeting?" you teased, hoping to get a reaction out of him. But none of it was working. He just stared at you, his face nearly blank as he clearly was working very hard to keep it that way. You knew everything you did wasn't the most creative or forward but still, how was he not reacting? And why wouldn't he say something by now if he liked you too? Your frustration at him was building and you knew it was illogical. The months of flirting were making you pent up and you needed something, anything, from him to feel some relief.

Soon enough the normal day started, and everyone else had arrived. It felt like your opportunity was missed, but you were determined not to let the day go to waste. You thought on it for a while, as you made copies and busied yourself by pretending the machine was giving you trouble. You went back and forth with yourself, weighing the risk of your ideas. Eventually you decided you didn't care to be careful.

How do you look so fine in just a plain black and white suit? the note read, sitting atop the pile of copies you made for him. You set it in his office with a thud, running out without even making eye contact with him. Your heart pounded; it was your first real and direct admission that you found him attractive. Now he must have something to say, you thought. He must have some reaction.

You had to wait another hour, the time passing agonizingly slowly, and again you had to busy yourself with your work and pretend everything was fine. As Yeosang got ready to leave he came by your desk; if you hadn't spent months observing him so closely you probably wouldn't have been able to tell his gait was off, betraying his nervousness.

"These copies came out poorly, can you make some more before you leave today? You can just leave them in my office," he said, his voice clearly full of tension, his volume just high enough for you to hear. He too wasn't making eye contact with you, his gaze stuck on the far wall, like the blankness of it was somehow mesmerizing.

"Oh, um, of course. Sorry about that. I'll go redo them here in a moment," you say awkwardly.

"Great, thanks," he says, walking away as he swallowed thickly.

You glance down at the stack to see a small piece of paper folded on top, the top page of the stack appearing to have been copied just fine. You glance around to see if anybody is watching you, your heart in your throat in anticipation of Yeosang's response. You hear his office door open and close as you pick up the note, and see his back swiftly exit the front doors of the office. He is rushing, there's no doubt. Your excitement builds at this, feeling like he must have written something naughty, or at least not very work appropriate.

Finally, after one more check of everyone around, you open the note.

Be careful, smart-ass

I'm your coworker

And that was it.

A quick pang of embarrassment runs through your chest, your breath catching in your throat. That's it? you think. How the hell could you have read it all wrong? He clearly, obviously likes you too. But the note is so short, it's impossible to read between the lines. The first line is somewhat jokey, an inside joke between just the two of you. But the second, so short and plain, is hard not to interpret seriously. Maybe he doesn't like you, at least not like that. Or maybe he's warning you not to do things like that at work. But if not here, where? He keeps everything about himself private and leaves before you every day.

As you sit stewing in your embarrassment, the feeling starts turning more to anger, more to frustration. Well, you thought, if that's how it is, I guess I was wrong. You doubt he wants you to entirely ignore him but that's what you pledge to do, if for no other reason than to save your feelings. You certainly weren't going to let a coworker ruin how you feel at your job. Things had been going smoothly on the professional front, and you weren't going to let this screw things up for you. You decided it was time for seriousness and responsibility again. It killed a part of you, the part that had so enjoyed messing with Yeosang and fantasizing. But your anger and frustration at him was winning out. No more playing around. Even if he meant it jokingly, he wasn't making that clear. And that pissed you off more than anything, that he wasn't letting you in or telling you how he truly felt.

The next weeks are agony, to put it lightly. Self doubt plagues you constantly as you question your initial reaction, wondering if being so upset with him is even warranted. But then you think of the months of flirting, the months of trying to pry open a small door and him never even giving you an inch. You hadn't realized it at the time but looking back your frustration had been building, every single day that he joked with you but stayed so guarded. You considered that maybe your reaction was a bit unwarranted. But it made sense to you. There was just something in you, something that needed more of him, that needed access to the human parts.

It was dull but it was work, and you made it through. You thought is was probably for the best, that you were doing the right thing by not flirting with your coworker anymore. Things almost felt like they had reached a new equilibrium, and you felt like you could be just as satisfied with your work again, once you finally processed your little crush and the embarrassment over the note you left. How utterly childish, you thought. You were determined to be a professional adult. Unfortunately, one of your coworkers had other plans for you. It was out of nowhere, caught you completely off-guard, and unfortunately undid in a moment the nonchalance you had worked so hard to attain.

"Y/n, don't you think Yeosang's been weird lately?" Nora, your desk neighbor asks you one day. You were truly focused on reading a report and felt snapped back to reality, your heart squeezing in your chest at the mention of him. Of course, you think, he hasn't been normal cause he hasn't been flirting with me. Cause I've been fucking avoiding him. But you can't tell her that.

"What do you mean?" you ask instead, giving her an encouraging look. It isn't like you to be interested in talking about office gossip, so anytime you are interested your coworkers don't hold back.

"I swear he takes forever to respond to my emails now. And Jun said the same. I know he's always been quiet but he like barely leaves that office of his anymore. It's like he's hiding away in there. But then why is he not responding to our emails quickly? He used to just fine. And if he's in there all the time he should be even faster, if anything."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed," you lie, swallowing the lump forming in your throat, trying to keep your racing thoughts at bay. "About the emails, I mean. But yeah he's barely been out here recently. I wonder why?"

"A part of me is like, he's probably just feeling down lately or something," Nora responds," but then another part of me is like, he's probably up to no good in that office. I mean if he's so distracted every afternoon that he can't answer my emails for like three hours, what is he doing?"

"I don't know," you sigh out, turning back to the report. But Nora won't let it go.

"You seemed to get along well with him, what do you think it is?" she asks you.

"I don't know. He's very guarded Nora, I don't know him any better than the rest of you. Which is probably a good thing, we are coworkers after all." You sigh at your words. Nora looks at you intently, like she's expecting something. "What? You want me to go ask him or something? No way in hell is that happening."

"I know, I know. But listen, I had an idea. I know it's kind of insane but I was thinking, you know how his office door has those blinds? He keeps them closed all the time so no one can see in. But what if they were open and we could take a peek in there? It's always after lunch that he doesn't respond. I have an old stack of things I'm supposed to take to him before I shred today, and you have your daily afternoon delivery to him. What if when I'm walking out I open the blinds, just slightly? And then you can take a peak when you go over there, just before you knock so he doesn't know you're there."

"Oh, Nora," you sigh, shaking your head slightly but also smiling. You know you shouldn't engage in this ridiculousness, that you should be more mature than this. But you can't help being intrigued. If she's the one who opens the blinds you won't feel like it's your fault if you accidentally see anything. You can' imagine you will, given how professional Yeosang is at work. Or that Nora will even be able to open them. But something within you is very excited by the idea. You try desperately not to show it.

"I doubt you'll even be able to open them," you say. "And what if he sees you doing it? He's gonna be confused and creeped-out." You know you should be discouraging her but you can't bring yourself to tell her no.

"You don't know how stealthy I am," she responds.

"You're crazy," you say, laughing and shaking your head. This time you really do go back to your report, not letting her keep the conversation going.

It only takes about thirty minutes and she's back at her desk, leaning over towards you.

"I did it!" she whisper yells, excited and clearly proud of herself. All you can do is still shake your head, not believing she actually went through with her plan. "You better tell me what you see later y/n."

"Fine, I will," you tell her, trying to pretend like you don't care. You know you shouldn't; a sneaking feeling that you're both invading his privacy sweeps through your gut. But the excitement is still bubbling away, unfazed.

Finally your lunch break approaches and you head outside, not wanting to be bothered by anyone. You've started doing this ever since you started ignoring Yeosang, ever since he left you that note. Being inside with everyone during lunch no longer appeals to you; the pain of seeing him grab his food out of the fridge only to head back to his tiny office is too much to handle. And today especially, after that conversation with Nora, you desperately need the fresh air. It's hotter than ideal but the solitude feels nice. The loud sounds of the street are a welcome distraction, your brain still reeling. You feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to keep yourself calm. What on earth had come over you? An anger like nothing you've ever experienced has hit you; it is laced with shame and longing, and feels utterly overpowering. You miss terribly your interactions with him, even if they were short, even if they never left you feeling satisfied.

When you head back in you see the stack of reports you made this morning on your desk, the stack you must deliver to Yeosang. Your heart always sinks this time of day, when you have to knock on his door, say a quick hello, and leave. You always want to do more, to stay and poke fun at him, to stare at his face for just a little too long. But you've stopped that now.

When you finally grab them, finally adjust your outfit and take a deep breath as you ready yourself, Nora smiles mischievously at you, reminding you of what she wants you to do. You give her a look of distain but you nod anyway, making your way over. The walk feels miles long, though it only takes you some fifteen seconds to make it to his door. As you get close your steps slow down; you attempt to keep them silent on the tiled floor of the hallway. You see now, the little gaps in the blinds that Nora had somehow opened unnoticed. Had Yeosang really not closed them again? Had he really not noticed the small streams of light coming into his office that usually weren't there? You took a big deep breath, your arms clenching the stack of papers in your hands. You were just to the side of his door, not truly able to see in yet. You weren't sure what you should do; you felt stuck. A wave of nauseating anxiety ran over you, making you shaky. This isn't worth the stress, you thought. You decided to just walk in, to not play the game Nora wanted you to.

You take a step, about to reach up to knock on the glass of his door, but your eye catches on something. It's Yeosang's monitor, and the movement of his arm. The picture on his screen is unmistakably someone in a bikini, and the movement of his left elbow suggests a rhythmic up and down motion of his hand. You stop in your tracks, completely taken aback. You're reeling from how unprofessional and lewd the scene is, something you never would have expected from your quiet, proper coworker. The shock of the situation makes you unable to move as a wave of jitters runs through you, so strong you forget what you're doing, forget that Nora might be watching. Other people might start to as well, if they see you stood outside his office for an unusual amount of time. What feels like thousands of options of what to do next flood your mind in an instant, making it impossible for you to choose one. As you stand frozen you continue to watch his screen, his right hand reaching up towards his mouse. Suddenly you see the bikini in the photo, the bright red and white one you got last summer for your beach trip with your best friend. What the fuck? And then the next photo, the tab he clicks to, is unmistakably a girl in your favorite pink hoodie, and that photo, you know it from somewhere, right?

All at once you realize Yeosang is scrolling your best friend's Instagram, looking for photos of you, while jacking off. What the fuck is he doing, you think, anger shooting through you ferociously. You can't explain your next movements, your body on auto pilot, your entire being focused on one thing and one thing only. You open his office door without knocking, spinning around and closing it as fast as you can, dropping the stack of papers in your hands on the side of his desk without warning.

"What the hell are you doing?!" you ask as you loom over him, doing nothing to hide your anger.

"Fuck, y/n, what are you..." Yeosang trails off, scrambling to zip his pants and buckle his belt again, his hand flying to close the open tabs on his monitor. But you're fast enough to grab his arm and stop him, staring back at the photos of yourself on vacation. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, this is so wrong, I know, I'm so sorry," Yeosang babbles out, his words running together, his chest heaving from how turned on and scared he is. Even though what he's done is obvious grounds for being fired, for even struggling to find a new job, he can't help how hot it was, your presence suddenly upon him as he was touching himself to the thought of you. The anger in your tone only heightened the feeling, his head feeling faint as the rest of his body stood rigid.

He always worried about being caught ever since he started this, ever since you started ignoring him. He worried someone else would somehow catch him, that he might lose his job. But he just couldn't help himself. No one had ever had the affect on him that you did. He missed the ways you flirted with him, the actions and words that he'd think about as he touched himself late at night to the thought of you. Work became mind numbingly boring once you stopped talking to him, and having his own office allowed him the privacy to do what he needed to. He knew it was so wrong; he really couldn't explain it. And he couldn't explain or understand how turned on it made him now, your angry face looming over his, still unsure of what you would do next.

"What is wrong with you?? You're jacking off at work??" You speak sternly but try to keep your volume down. You feel the thread between your minds again, this time red and singeing, and realize your anger is turning him on even more.

"I don't know, I-"

"No, shut up. Don't say a fucking word to me. You leave me a note telling me to be careful?! And you're doing this?!" you continue, climbing onto his chair now, your faces getting closer and closer. The fact that he's hot and bothered by your anger, the look of terror and embarrassment on his face, it gives you a head rush like nothing you've ever experienced. Suddenly you feel yourself throbbing, needing something to take the edge off. You sit your hips down on his and immediately feel how rock hard he is, his dick straining against his pants. You slowly roll your hips back and forth, the friction making your cunt warm and tingly. Yeosang throws his head back with a groan, the layers of fabric cruelly limiting him from feeling any relief at your actions.

"Fuck, y/n-"

You grab his head, moving him to face you.

"Shut. Up," you whisper, moving your face down to kiss him, roughly sucking on his bottom lip. You keeping rocking yourself back and forth, a haze setting over your senses, your mind lost in the feeling of finally being on top of him.

"You really missed me that badly? That you had to touch yourself to pictures of me?" you taunt him, whispering in his ear. His head falls back again at your words, tears starting to form in his eyes at the frustration he feels between his legs. His hands come up to grab at your thighs and ass, completely overcome with lust and desire. You look down between you at his bulge, the sight of it straining making your mouth water. You move yourself back and begin unzipping his pants; Yeosang's head shoots up at the sound, his eyes joining yours in staring down at his crotch. His cock is hard and already leaking when you pull it out, and you spread his precum around his tip with your thumb slowly. Yeosang lets out a whimper, his whole body feeling on fire with your hand finally on his cock.

"This is what you really wanted, isn't it? Me touching you when we're at work and I'm mad at you? Are you that fucking perverted?" You can't stop teasing him, loving the way you feel so powerful, the way he is like putty in your hands. You spit into your hand and spread it down his shaft, finally starting to pump you hand slowly, watching the way his face scrunches up in pleasure and his body submits to you. "Is that all you think about when you see me, me touching you until you come? How do you even get any work done? You're just pathetically horny in here all day, touching yourself?"

Yeosang's breaths are coming out fast and ragged, his chest and face flushed and beads of sweat forming on any and all exposed skin. You lean down and swipe your tongue along his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin, how warm and soft it is. Your hand is pumping faster now, your motions slowly picking up to what Yeosang needs, which is a total ravishing. He has long forgotten his professional morals, long forgotten how wrong he thinks this is. He'd do anything to have it last forever. "Y/n, y/n..." he mumbles out, trying to tell you to go harder, go faster. But he can't get the words out, his mind is too hazy. Regardless he's even harder now, his dick flushed and almost painfully hard.

All at once his breaths speed up, and then he's moaning involuntarily, clearly close to the edge. You move off his lap as quickly as you can, momentarily moving your hand away from him. He looks up at you as if confused, his eyebrows slightly raised in the middle.

"No way am I letting you ruin my pants, I just got them last weekend," you say, your tone patronizing. "You can ruin your own pants." You're touching him again, pumping your hand up and down, your mouth on his neck. You look and see his monitor is still lit up, still set on the picture of you in your bikini. "Look at the screen Yeosang," you whisper in his ear. "Is this what you've been coming to for the past weeks? This little, innocent picture? All because I stopped talking to you? You poor, poor thing." Yeosang whines as you tease him, pathetic little mewls coming out at every word. And then he's falling over the edge, coating his nice black work pants in his own cum. His body shudders as you keep stroking him, riding out the entirely of his orgasm. As soon as it's over you both are shocked back to reality, Yeosang attempting to get his breathing under control. Your hand is covered in his cum, your own face beaded in sweat. You look around quickly and grab a tissue from the corner of his office, wiping down your face and neck before trying to clean your hand. The nastiness of what you did hits you, your stomach tying in knots at the thought of everyone having heard you. You look back at Yeosang who has turned in his desk chair to face you, his eyes not leaving you, his face strangely calm in the face of your obvious panic.

"What?" You can't hide how unsettled you are. Yeosang just smiles and chuckles. "I don't get why you're so calm, you're going to have to walk out of here with no pants on," you say, wiping the last of his cum off your hand and tossing the tissue in his small trash can.

"I'll just change into my gym clothes early, and if anyone asks, I'll just say I spilt coffee on myself. No one will know, no one will care," he responds. Again so composed, mere moments after you had him moaning and whining. It pisses you off, how relaxed he is already.

You start towards his door, realizing now that the length of time you spent in here will probably seem suspicious. But Yeosang grabs your arm, stopping you and turning you towards him.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" he asks, worried by your demeanor.

"Yeosang, stop," you say, stepping back from him.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I should not have been doing that. I will quit tomorrow if it'll make you feel better."

"No, Yeosang, no. Just... fuck. I'm sorry, I don't know what the fuck I just did..."

"I'm not gonna tell anyone, if that's what you're concerned about."

"No Yeosang, I-" you sigh, trying not to overreact. "God you annoy me," you huff out, shaking your head at him. He smiles, not sure how to respond.

"Y/n, listen-"

"No, no. We're not talking about this. I'm leaving, I've already been in here too long." With that final statement you step out, immediately making your way to the restroom to assess how bad you look.

Thankfully the damage is mild, your hair just a bit more frizzy due to the sweat and heat of the room. But overall you look normal, at least as far as you can tell. When you finally make your way back to your desk Nora is nearly jumping out of her chair with anticipation.

"So, what did you see?'" she asks.

"Oh, it wasn't anything weird, just a spreadsheet he was entering stuff into. And making a graph it looked like? Probably something special the boss requested."

"But you were in there so long," she responds, with a slight frown.

"Yeah, one of the reports had something confusing on it, he was asking me some questions. I think he's just busy with work Nora, that's why he's slow with the emails." Your body is buzzing, lying not something you feel accustomed to.

"Well, I guess this place is super boring after all," Nora concludes, sighing and going back to her work.

You spend the rest of the afternoon fighting back a smile, trying not to visibly shake as the adrenaline is still pumping through you. Your emotions are all over the place. Your mind races and you can't make sense of most of it but there's one thing you definitely know.

You've never felt so powerful in your life.

[genericpuff]

Familiarity in the Unknown - The Book Written by Tiny Paws

So there's this story you may or may not be aware of. It's about a rat who, despite being a rat, expresses a deep love for creating and cooking, often through unorthodox means and yet - throughout the unorthodox - compels us to think about the virtue of art and our own place in the world.

I know, completely absurd concept, why would a rat be cooking? It's ridiculous - but absolutely beautiful in its execution and simplicity. Our main character exists within a world that is treacherous, endlessly massive, occupied by strange creatures that could hurt him - even kill him - where good food and joy is hard to come by and living for oneself is against the tenets of his society's herd-mentality - but he is able to persevere and break through the difficulties of this world through his joy for food, for cooking, for the fire and smells, for satisfying his curiosity of the unknown, for expressing himself through the creation of art and, subsequently, for the love of the community and friendship that only grows in response to his sincerity.

Who am I kidding though, you know who I'm talking about, I don't need to keep patronizing you with wordplay and flowery descriptions. I'm obviously talking about The Book Written by Tiny Paws-

The Book Written by Tiny Paws isn't really a comic that I found so much as it found me in my daily scroll through my feed of notifications, featured in a user-submitted post to the /r/webtoons subreddit, discussing their newest update. There are a lot of comics that get promo'd in these communities and for the most part, none of them really ever compel me to read them, usually due to elements outside of the creator's control - they aren't a genre I'm interested in, the art style isn't gripping me, I'm just not in the mood to pick up anything new, etc.

But every now and then, something breaks through my own mentally enclosed barrier and reaches the innermost parts of my brain. And strangely enough, this time around, it was this little guy:

I did not know his name. I did not know what species he was supposed to be. I mean, he looks like a rat at first glance, but he also has little webbed feet like a platypus. I didn't even really pay much attention to what he was saying at first - all I could look at was his sincere little face. And once I snapped out of the cuteness hypnosis and read his dialogue, I suddenly found myself already hooked even before I read a single page. I wasn't sure what to expect, just so long as I could see more of this cute little guy.

By the end of the 9 episodes it had available at the time, not only was I more in love with this tiny creature than I was when I started, but I had the realization that this was going to be one of those rare, magical occasions when a piece of work would grab me and refuse to let go.

The Book Written by Tiny Paws is, to put it simply, a story about a creature known as "Firemaker" trying to find his way back to his herd after being separated from them during a flood so devastating that it drowns the earth beneath its waters. We are shown immediately the nature of this world - barren, bleak, cruel - but Firemaker describes it with the curiosity and wonder of a child experiencing all of it for the first time.

We're also immediately introduced to another core character - a stranger named "Vagabond" who does not seem to belong to a herd.

From its first two pages alone, The Book Written by Tiny Paws exceeds in what many comics struggle to do - it not only introduces us to its main character through his personality alone, but presents us the creator's approach to storytelling and worldbuilding: familiarity in the unknown.

Throughout each episode, alongside Firemaker, Vagabond, and the others who come and go throughout the world, we learn about how this world operates, and how they have been surviving in it. We learn that the flooding is actually a regular enough occurrence that creatures like Firemaker count their ages by how many rains they've survived. We learn that there are other creatures described only by their physical traits, and are left only with our own assumptions based on their word choice and imagination as to what they're referring to. There isn't any sign of human life, but human-like intelligence is present as creatures like Firemaker and Vagabond are able to communicate, count, multiply, use tools, and, as we see above with Firemaker, make logical connections between cause and effect (even if they're initially wrong).

Many of these concepts are familiar to us, if not absolutely mundane and outdated, but through the eyes of Firemaker and Vagabond, we get to see those same concepts re-contextualized in a world that is unlike our own. In this way, The Book Written by Tiny Paws asks us to re-explore the mundane through the eyes of creatures that rely on our privileges for their survival.

And when it's not re-contextualizing, it's introducing us to new concepts entirely that make this story and its world feel wholly unique. One such unique concept is the way in which they count - a system of multiplication through simple geometry.

It should be mentioned, before I get in any further - the creator of this work, Nolinno, proclaims themselves as "more of a physicist than an artist", and while I do believe they're not giving themselves enough credit for the art (which I will get into soon), their passion for physics shows immensely, showcasing not only their love for learning, but their affinity for teaching as well. It takes someone who really knows their stuff to be able to explain it as simply as possible for the layman such as myself to understand - and even then, not everyone who is well-trained in their field of study can necessarily teach it well - and yet Nolinno has done an extraordinary job so far of explaining their story's concepts in ways that are both simple to grasp and rewarding to master. Specifically, they reward the readers' ability to retain information and engage with it through their own conclusions, largely by creating opportunities in the text for that information to become relevant.

One of the earliest examples of this is when Vagabond initially reveals his age to be what first-time readers will assume is the number '11', and from there we can assume that '11 rains' must be significant as Firemaker seems astounded by this.

But then, we immediately find out that Firemaker himself hasn't learned to count that high, prompting Vagabond to teach him how to count higher than 3, which is when we get to learn the actual details of that aforementioned counting system built on multiplication and geometry.

It's through this explanation that we learn that Vagabond isn't 11, but the text doesn't explicitly tell us - it asks us as readers to instead follow along with Vagabond's teachings and come to our own answer.

And so, I'm not going to tell you the answer here either! There's a top comment on this particular episode that's gotten it right (as confirmed by the creator like a very proud elementary school teacher, awww), but consider that more of an answer key if you want to know if you got the correct answer. And if you feel like Vagabond's explanation here is too limited or you want more examples, nothing to fear - Nolinno has given us a study guide!

What I adore about this is that as much as I'm intimidated by mathematical concepts like this, I genuinely appreciate when a creator puts in the effort to establish ground rules like this, and in such a natural, sincere way. It challenges you just enough to compel you to try, but not so much that it's completely alienating or overwhelming.

And thanks to Firemaker's characterization, we don't feel so alone in learning these concepts, either. Firemaker's own inexperience on account of being only "three times three" years old (he's 9!) he makes a perfect surrogate for the audience to learn about the world through him. This isn't an uncommon storytelling trick, but can often come at the expense of the character's own personality - after all, if a character is constantly having to be a surrogate for the audience, it can lead to them becoming more of a blank slate without any voice - but Nolinno has accomplished that balance perfectly through Firemaker's curiosity and vulnerability. Firemaker being 9 years old and still inexperienced doesn't rob him of his own skills - more so, it's clear that he's fulfilled a specific role for his pack, and now that he's been separated from them, he's now having to learn the skills that were likely reserved for other members of his pack.

This also makes him a perfect foil to Vagabond, a creature whose past is still shrouded in mystery but is clearly experienced and can act as the parental figure or "older brother" to Firemaker - but we're always left wondering why Firemaker has left his pack, and whether or not those survival tactics were taught to him through his pack or learned the hard way after leaving. It ultimately leaves us wondering what Vagabond's true motives are, and whether or not he can be trusted as a role model to Firemaker. Fortunately, nothing so far has made me or even Firemaker doubt his capabilities or motives, even earning himself a new name-

-but in a world so unpredictable, who's to say that Vagabond's own motives are entirely pure?

After all, as we soon learn, not all creatures are kind in this world.

Again, in case it needs reminding - Firemaker is nine. Though 9 years old for a rat-platypus creature may not be equivalent to 9 years old for a human, it is still very much communicated to us through the narrative that he is a child and, as such, is going to have his safety threatened in this world the same way a child often would in our own - through the cruel actions of untrustworthy adults.

But, as I mentioned already, Firemaker is never made to be the constant ball and chain of the pair. Though he may just now be learning how to count and multiply higher than 3, he's earned his name through his own particular skills that can be used to not only save himself from starvation, but save others from ambush through the use of smoke signals.

Of course, as much as I can gush about the narrative, I also wouldn't forgive myself if I neglected to mention its art style which, despite being created by one person who claims to not be much of an artist, wonderfully complements its theme and tone. I would go so far as to argue that this is one of those stories that just simply wouldn't work as effectively as it does if it had a full color art style. The contrast of black and white between the environment and its characters, as well as the simplicity of the character designs against the more detailed designs of the architecture and props, makes for a brilliant visual presentation that - like the worldbuilding - expresses itself clearly without overcomplicating anything. Through its art - just like through its writing - it asks us to try and find familiarity in the unknown.

And best of all, when things do get complicated-

-it harshly reminds us how quickly a simple and beautiful thing can turn ugly and cruel.

Even though it was initially Firemaker's cutesy little face that suckered me in, the worldbuilding that Nolinno has expertly crafted through their own knowledge and affinity for teaching others has stolen the show. And that's a quality that I find is quite rare in fantasy works nowadays, but just like the culinary arts of that other rat who's far more well-known, it came from a completely unexpected place.

Nolinno has accomplished what I find a lot of budding fantasy writers struggle with - they have successfully created a world that is full of its own unique qualities, and communicated it clearly to their audience in a way that is both engaging and rewarding. Unlike others who often put the lore before the story - usually by dumping every bit of exposition, conlang definition, map and political chart on their readers before they've had a chance to even read the first page or know the main character's name, often out of fear that all their prep work will have been "wasted" if they don't reveal all of it immediately - Nolinno simply shows us their world and its inhabitants as they are, without the need to justify itself, and invites you to join along at your own pace, with helpful little bits of knowledge communicated through the narrative to help you find your way. It's okay if you're not entirely certain of how this world works, because you're not travelling alone - so too are Firemaker and Knower finding their way.

As someone who was raised on the works of Jeff Smith (BONE) and Bill Watterson (Calvin and Hobbes), and even found their own passion for fantasy writing through both comics and video games like The Legend of Zelda, I have a lot of appreciation for stories like this that can be appreciated by all age demographics, and I've found myself almost disillusioned by the current landscape of conveyer-belt media today that often fails to live up to even a fraction of what we remember existing 20 years ago, existing only to pad a rich executive's bottom line. This has only been further exacerbated by the advent of generative AI that's now threatening the integrity and livelihood of artists both within the industry and outside of it.

Suffice to say, just like the world that Firemaker inhabits in The Book Written by Tiny Paws, our world is very bleak right now. Even still, its characters still find their moments for joy, for rest, and for play, and the comic in and of itself reminds me through its existence that there are still wonderful works being made that are capable of making me feel as curious and excited as I did when I was reading BONE cover-to-cover at the age of 12.

Those moments and those stories feel harder to come by than ever, but I'm happy to say that The Book Written by Tiny Paws is one of them, new memories that I'm happy to have made and am eager to continue to make - familiarity in the unknown.

[hotmessmaxpress]

Thinking about the first time Marc goes to the ranch, post-reconciliation.

Vale invites him to ride, and while Marc is thrilled at what this means for their budding friendship and his hopes for a relationship, he's terrified.

He brings no one-- no mechanics, no friends, nothing. He turns up in a rental car, toting his gear with him that he had to pay to fly in from Spain. It's regular black and red Alpinestars, and Marc agonized over the fact that it even bears his name and number. It's not Honda or Gresini branded, so Marc hopes that the name and number aren't too distasteful to Vale.

His hands are a little shaky as he greets Vale and they get the bikes set up.

This time there are no others; Vale clearly didn't want to deal with an entourage of opinions if he invited his regular crew, and there are no observers present who might photograph the occasion. That thought brings Marc some comfort, at least.

When he's on the bike, helmet on and following Vale down the short gravel drive onto the track, he second-guesses himself. He knows the expectation is that they race and have fun, but Marc knows that's impossible. Racing Vale isn't fun. The thought of overtaking him makes nausea curdle in his stomach; racing Vale has only ever brought him pain.

He slides out of the third turn, landing unceremoniously and uninjured in the dirt. The bike is fine, and he climbs back on. Vale has turned around and come back for him. Marc throws him a thumbs-up, and Vale nods before taking back off.

Marc follows Vale around the track for another few laps before crashing again, the bike sliding under him as he takes a turn with little confidence and jerks the steering too hard.

Vale once again comes for him, this time removing his helmet to regard him with a frown.

"You weren't even on the racing line."

Marc shakes his head. "Just getting used to the bike."

Vale is still frowning at him, and the sight makes Marc uncomfortable. Vale launches into another explanation of the track, patiently making sure that Marc knows where to look for his most comfortable braking point. The detailed explanation and total focus on him is suffocating. He's thankful when Vale puts his helmet back on and kicks his bike into gear.

He follows Vale around the track, keeping up with him but never passing, even if his brain screams at him to be aggressive, to take the openings when he sees them. They race laps and laps around the track, Marc always right behind. Eventually Marc begins to notice that Vale is slowing down; he's quite literally not riding as fast as he can. Marc still doesn't overtake, but the thought sits uneasily in his chest.

When Vale abruptly turns off the track to head back to the garage, Marc follows with a lump in his throat.

Vale stops his bike and turns it off, so Marc follows suit. The silence echoes in his ears. Vale takes his helmet off, and he's frowning. Marc doesn't want to remove his helmet; he wants the polycarbonate visor to keep the distance between them. He knows he's disappointed Vale somehow, but he's not sure how or how to fix it.

"Why won't you race me?" Vale asks bluntly.

White noise rushes in Marc's ears for a moment, and he pulls his helmet off.

"I-- I can't," he says, nervously.

The furrow between Vale's brows deepens.

"I can't race you," Marc says, swallowing thickly. "I can't race without being aggressive and I can't do that with you. Not after..."

He doesn't have to finish for them both to know what he's talking about.

Vale stares at him, and then climbs off his bike, wheels it over to where it was held before they took them out, and then walks into the dressing room without a response. Marc feels like crying. His hands are shaking so badly that he doesn't think he can get his gloves off.

He had a chance to fully cement his relationship with Vale, and in his efforts to not destroy it... he destroyed it.

He wheels his own bike over to Vale's numbly, but doesn't follow him into the dressing room. He sits heavily in one of the chairs scattered about the garage, and focuses on taking deep breaths. He doesn't know if he should shower and change and try and talk to Vale, or if he should just leave. Part of him wants to leave his clothes behind, climb into the rental car in his dusty gear, and disappear.

Marc gets up and finally heads into the dressing room. Vale is already showering, so Marc takes his time undressing. He and Vale don't speak as they both get back into regular clothes. When Marc is finally showered and dressed he finds Vale back outside, puttering around.

"I'm sorry," Marc says, after a deep breath. "I am going to go. I don't think this was a good idea."

He keeps his chin up and moves to grab his helmet so he can begin packing his car, but Vale turns with such abruptness that it stops Marc in his tracks.

"Don't leave," Vale says.

Vale looks like a tasted a lemon. He's clearly just as uncomfortable talking about feelings now as he was all those years ago.

"I want... why can't you race me?"

Marc chews on his lip.

"I don't want to be aggressive. I can't... Vale I can't mess this up again. I'd rather lose every race for the rest of my life than lose you again."

Vale runs a hand across his hair and lets out a slow, deep breath.

"I want to race you," he says carefully. "I want you here because I want to race."

Marc shakes his head. Vale says that, but he doesn't mean it. He remembers the way the kindness on his face changed when Marc beat him. He remembers how winning, even at the ranch, soured their relationship to the point of no return.

"I made a mistake," Vale continues, with the same difficulty of a man with a mouth filled with nails. "I let racing get in between us last time. I'm retired now, and I don't care anymore. I want you. I want to have fun with you."

Marc chews on his lip again.

"I'm sorry," Marc says uncomfortably.

Vale shakes his head, and finally approaches Marc.

"You don't have to apologize."

Vale takes Marc's face in his hands, ever so gently. He stares in Marc's eyes for an intense moment, before leaning down and pressing their lips together.

and then marc's foot pops up like the princess diaries

[rkart221]

Lyf's metamorphosis

This is an unstructured rant!! TW for lots of gore and unpleasant imagery

I think Lyf goes through a metamorphosis. While he survives the Bifrost and escapes the Yggdrasil system, he's hardly unscathed. Seeing the effects of the great old ones and directly staring into the eyes of Yog-Sothoth changes him in a way I think about often. I think he very much could've died, though due to the nature of his survival and the fact he is now rapidly travelling through the cosmos, with the knowledge of the great old ones, they keep him alive. He's insistently their unknowing vessel, subconsciously spreading their powers further and further into the galaxy. Anyway onto his metamorphosis. It starts off small. Mild headaches and aches of the body as his cells and skin struggle to compute with the sudden environment shift that happened on Midgard. Pains that only grow. I like to think being around him gives people headaches too. A sort of unexplainable crawl of the skin, an itch that doesn't go away. Taking inspiration from the Dunwich horror I like to imagine animals start to resent him, dogs growing aggressive in fear, rats and other urban animals fleeing weeks before he arrives. People start to associate him with the dread inducing call of a Whippoorwill.

After he leaves people tend to feel ill, falling sick, feeling like their insides are melting. Depending on how long they were around him it ranges from a mild headache to multiple organs shutting off as the aroma of his presence melts the body from the inside out. No matter what Lyf does he cannot stop what he causes, instead opting to keep travelling, only continuing the great old one's plan. Now on to his body. The headaches are constant, though sometimes they're weaker than other days, allowing him to think. Other days they're so bad he fears his brain will explode. Cracks start to form, his skin rotting and starting to fall off. Bald patches in his hair grow as the skin grows weaker. There's an unbearable itch beneath his skin that he's never able to get rid of no matter how hard he scratches. His bones ache, body sweats with thickening pale mucus, obviously he's sick, throwing up rather a lot. His sick is black and has the residue of oil, staining whatever surface it touches. Perhaps by occasion, eyes glance back, hidden in the inky black mucus.

Additionally taking inspiration from Wilbur Whatley, he gets the whole tendrils in the stomach thing. I like to think he binds them to still appear somewhat normal.

Whenever he gets cut or hurt by any nature it's healed. Despite his body rapidly trying to die he cannot, the old ones will not let him. The rotting is a reflection of his body unable to keep up with his mind. If he were to get a deep cut black tendrils would morph out of his skin, wrapping it air tight. Over the next few days it'll remain, slowly melting away his skin, bones, veins as it rebuilds whatever is hurt back from square one. If someone were to somehow get it away from his skin then they'd be met with a strong acid and a significant lack of skin underneath.

Anyway I wanna slowly explain all my Lyf lore because theres alot!! I think I'll just do unstructured rant posts like this, doubt anyone will care much but if anything it's useful to have all my information together :)!!!