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tallmantall · 2 months

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James Donaldson on Mental Health - How Early Puberty Affects Children’s Mental Health

James Donaldson on Mental Health - How Early Puberty Affects Children’s Mental Health Tips for supporting kids through a challenging transition Writer: Jessica Souza Clinical Experts: Sandra L. Whitehouse, PhD , Paul Mitrani, MD, PhD What You'll Learn - What is early puberty? - What are the mental health impacts of early puberty? - How can parents help kids experiencing early puberty? - Quick Read - Full Article - What makes early puberty difficult? - What are the mental health impacts of early puberty? - How can you help your child manage early puberty? - When should parents seek mental health support? The average age of puberty in the United States is dropping. Early puberty, or a child’s body maturing at an unusually early age – generally before age 8 for girls and 9 for boys – can cause anxiety, depression, and body image issues. It’s important for parents to understand the emotional changes that accompany puberty so they can help their children cope. Puberty causes physical and mental changes. In early puberty, children do not yet have the tools to cope with the intense and overwhelming feelings that often come with puberty. This can cause moodiness and outbursts. At this stage of development, children form their identities and want to fit in. They can feel uncomfortable and alienated if they don’t see their peers’ bodies changing too. Early maturation can also make children look older, leading to unwanted sexual attention or unrealistic behavioral expectations. Research indicates that anxiety and depression related to early puberty may affect girls more than boys, as early physical growth could act as a social advantage for boys. But boys may experience feelings of aggression and a sudden sexual drive that they might not know how to manage. Children who are transgender or nonbinary may feel even more distress as the changes in their bodies don’t align with their gender identity. Parents can help by talking to their kids before puberty starts. Removing stigma and teaching children what is happening to them can keep the conversation open and give them a chance to ask questions. Modeling healthy coping skills at home is an excellent way to help kids learn to handle their feelings. If your child struggles to communicate about their experiences with early puberty or manage its effects, treatment like cognitive behavioral therapy can be effective. Puberty is an intense time of transition for all children and adolescents, but it can be especially difficult for younger kids who are experiencing early puberty. Early puberty, also called precocious puberty, is when a child’s body begins to mature at an unusually young age — generally before age 8 for girls and age 9 for boys. Until recently, the average age for puberty was age 11 for girls and age 12 for boys, but now many experts consider any age above 8 or 9 to be normal. Experts cite many possible causes for early puberty, including genetics, nutrition and/or obesity, environmental cues, and trauma. Early puberty can cause emotional distress and increase the risks for mental health issues like anxiety and depression. Many studies indicate that the average age of puberty in the United States is falling. As more and more children are maturing earlier than expected, it’s important for parents to understand the emotional changes that puberty brings, and how to help kids develop coping skills to prevent long-term negative impacts. #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space. #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleFind out more about the work I do on my 501c3 non-profit foundationwebsite www.yourgiftoflife.org Order your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife: From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com Link for 40 Habits Signupbit.ly/40HabitsofMentalHealth If you'd like to follow and receive my daily blog in to your inbox, just click on it with Follow It. Here's the link https://follow.it/james-donaldson-s-standing-above-the-crowd-s-blog-a-view-from-above-on-things-that-make-the-world-go-round?action=followPub What makes early puberty difficult? Children experiencing early puberty may be going through physical and mental changes before they’re emotionally mature enough to handle them. Sandra L. Whitehouse, PhD, a clinical psychologist at the Child Mind Institute, explains: “With precocious puberty, they don’t have the executive functioning or self-control that would allow them to manage their intense feelings. It’s like a car where the accelerator is fully online, but kids can’t reach the brakes or steering.” Beyond the physical transitions that come with puberty, there are emotional and social changes as well. Pubescent kids are starting to think about their identity — who they are, what they like, who they’re attracted to. They may have overwhelming feelings, moodiness, and outbursts. Their relationship with their parents may become strained. It’s common at this stage of development to desperately want to fit in with your peers. Paul Mitrani, MD, PhD, a child and adolescent psychiatrist at the Child Mind Institute, says that kids may feel uncomfortable because their bodies are changing before their peers’ bodies. “It is a time where you really want to be like your friends, and if you can’t be, that can cause a lot more stress.” Children going through early puberty may experience bullying or sexual harassment (especially girls). They also may find that some people think they’re older than they really are, which can lead to unrealistic behavioral expectations and risk of early exposure to mature behaviors like sexual activity and drug use. “When someone assumes you’re older than you are, you’re exposed to different things and they may treat you in a different way,” Dr. Mitrani explains. “And you may be ostracized from kids your age if you’re taller or more developed.” What are the mental health impacts of early puberty? Early puberty puts children at an increased risk for emotional and mental health issues, such as anxiety, depression, low self-esteem, and poor body image or body dysmorphia. As they continue to mature, children who went through early puberty may also be more likely to abuse substances, engage in earlier sexual activity (which is associated with higher risks of teen pregnancy), and suffer from eating disorders. “It’s like you’re trying to fit into a certain mold, and when you can’t, sometimes you’re self-medicating or you’re doing other things to try to control your body,” explains Dr. Mitrani. There can be important gender differences in the psychological impacts of early puberty. Some research indicates that early-developing girls seem to be more vulnerable to anxiety and depression, and that they can carry that risk for several years. For boys, early puberty may not be as distressing. “Early-maturing boys have some social advantages because they’re bigger and stronger,” explains Dr. Whitehouse. But that doesn’t mean that boys aren’t at risk for emotional issues. With increased testosterone, they may have stronger emotions, a possible increase in aggressive behavior, and a sudden sex drive that they might not know how to manage. Since early puberty may cause stunted growth, boys may feel self-conscious about their height later on if they end up being shorter than their peers. And for children who are transgender or nonbinary — who often experience extreme distress called gender dysphoria — puberty at any age can be especially difficult, and early puberty can exacerbate their challenges. “If you have gender dysphoria and your body is changing into something that is not aligned with your gender identity,” Dr.Mitrani adds, “it’s just going to be that much more stressful.” A child’s racial or ethnic identity can also shape how early puberty impacts them. For example, Black girls often experience what’s called adultification bias — they’re perceived as less innocent and are expected to act older than they are. This can result in harsher discipline at school for the same infractions as their white counterparts. Undergoing early puberty only exacerbates this unfair treatment. How can you help your child manage early puberty? Parents can’t control the changes that puberty will bring, but there are many ways to help your child prepare for and manage the transition. Regardless of their age, when you first start to notice that your child is showing signs of puberty, it’s best to check in with your pediatrician. For girls, puberty usually begins with growing breasts and underarm or pubic hair. For boys, larger testicles and body hair may be the first signs. But the best way to help prepare your child for puberty starts long before the signs appear. “The earlier you can talk about these things in an age-appropriate way, the better,” says Dr. Mitrani. Start discussing puberty with your child early, even around seven or eight years old. It’s important to remove any stigma around it and allow your child to ask questions. Keep in mind that you don’t have to explain everything to them at once. In fact, that might overwhelm or confuse them. Take it slowly and let your child’s questions guide the conversation. “If your kid has a question, ask them why they want to know. Try to get more information about what they’re asking you, and just give them the information that they’re asking for,” advises Dr. Mitrani. “You want to have these conversations early, but you also want to read the room.” When should parents seek mental health support? If your child is undergoing early puberty and you’re concerned about their mental health, you can help arm them with coping skills. And consulting with a therapist is often an effective way to do that. “A lot of what therapy is all about —cognitive behavioral therapy, dialectical behavior therapy — is teaching kids the skills they need to become aware of themselves and aware of their emotions,” explains Dr. Whitehouse. “And to learn strategies for recognizing when they’re having thoughts that maybe they could challenge.” Parents can start teaching these skills early on, but during puberty, communicating effectively with your child can get harder. “The relationship gets stressed when puberty hits, because naturally the developmental task of teenagers is to separate and individuate from their parents,” Dr. Whitehouse says. “So they have a harder time talking to their parents, and there’s more conflict where there used to not be. Parents feel like their child was just taken over by a monster, and kids feel the same way about their parents! And so a therapist can help to bridge the communication.” It’s also helpful for parents to reinforce coping skills and emotional regulation at home. One of the best ways is to model healthy coping skills themselves, since children pick up behavior patterns from the adults around them. Read the full article

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talkonlinecounselling · 1 year

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Looking for an Anxiety Counsellor Online? I Know Exactly What You’re Going Through

With summer less than a couple of weeks away, many of us are gearing up to start spending more time with friends and family.

Whether it’s going to parties or family gatherings, hitting the beach, meeting up for dinner and drinks, or something else entirely, these kinds of outings can be a lot of fun.

But they can also cause a lot of anxiety, and that can quickly ruin our fun, making things that should be enjoyable feel like a chore.

There are many reasons for this, including social pressures, body image concerns, changes in routine, fear of missing out (FOMO), and more, but regardless of what’s making you anxious, these emotions can be very hard to handle.

That being said, if you’ve managed to find this article, then you’re probably looking for an anxiety counsellor online.

But when you’re looking for an anxiety counsellor online, it can be tough to know whom you can trust, if you’ll get along with them, or if they’ll be able to relate to what you’re going through.

With that in mind, I’d like to introduce myself to you, dear reader.

My name is Paige Hollingsworth. I’m a clinical counsellor with a history of anxiety in my family, and for many years, I’ve dealt with anxiety myself, so I know exactly what you’re going through.

I’ve also spent a lot of time learning how to cope with anxiety, and helping our clients to do the same.

So, if you’re looking for an anxiety counsellor online to help you learn how to handle panic attacks, deal with social anxiety, or just cope with anxiety in general, then you’re going to want to keep reading because this article is for you.

Searching for an Anxiety Counsellor Online? Here’s What Sets Me Apart

I may be an anxiety counsellor, but that doesn’t mean I don’t experience anxiety myself.

On the contrary, I’ve had to deal with anxiety for many years, and it definitely has the potential to ruin my fun, not least in the summer months.

I absolutely love hiking, for instance, but in recent years, I’ve been quite anxious about some of the potential dangers of walking around out in the wilderness.

In spite of how rare these events actually are, and the fact that I’ve never experienced them, I’ve found myself worrying about things like bear attacks or rattlesnake bites, and there have been times when this anxiety has completely destroyed my ability to enjoy hiking.

At some point, this even started to devolve into full-on risk avoidance, and I’d start coming up with every excuse in the book to avoid hiking, which gradually decreased my enjoyment of it, and for a while, I even stopped participating in it altogether.

But using my counselling skills, I’ve been able to deal with my anxiety in a healthier way, bring it down to a manageable level, and actually start to enjoy hiking again (and I haven’t experienced any bear attacks or snake bites, either).

That being said, one of the main things that sets me apart from other anxiety counsellors is my personal experience with anxiety, and having been able to learn how to effectively manage it with the same methods I use for clients.

So, not only do I have my formal training, and academic knowledge of this affliction to inform my understanding and ability to treat anxiety, but I also have my own experiences, both in dealing with anxiety and learning how to manage it.

I’m also able to treat clients with an array of issues, aside from just anxiety, including depression, substance abuse, compulsive behaviour, ADHD, grief, relationships, complex trauma, and even major life transitions.

This allows me to help clients with more than just anxiety, which is often accompanied by other afflictions, so no matter what you’re dealing with in addition to your anxiety, I can help.

So, now that you know what sets me apart from other anxiety counsellors, let’s look at how I can help you with your anxiety.

How I Can Help You With Your Anxiety

If you’re not off the grid living in the middle of the woods somewhere, it’s pretty much impossible to avoid anxiety in today’s society, so most of us will have to deal with it in some respect.

Some of us can deal with it all on our own, whereas others will need some help from a professional, such as myself.

But when you’re searching for an anxiety counsellor online, it’s important to understand the approach they’re going to take, and what exactly it is you’re signing up for.

My approach to anxiety counselling is to help you feel less conflict with this aspect of yourself, and relate to it in a healthier way.

So, instead of fighting with your anxiety, you can make better use of your time and energy by learning how to adapt to stressful situations, have better control over how you react in these scenarios, and expand your window of tolerance for dealing with distress, while accepting the existence of your anxiety, and learning how to coexist with it.

I also have experience with a wide range of modalities, but when it comes to treating anxiety, I prefer using Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT), and the Internal Family Systems (IFS) model.

In the context of anxiety counselling, I like to focus primarily on IFS, as it really gets to the core of the anxiety and allows me to help you transform your relationship to it. IFS is great for treating anxiety because it focuses less on what you’re doing “wrong” and more on how these behaviours may have started as helpful adaptations in adverse circumstances.

At the same time, IFS can also help you to develop a better relationship with your true self, while learning self-leadership and self-compassion, and it gives me the ability to dig deep into the origins of your anxiety by looking at how traumatic experiences have shaped your behaviour.

In addition to IFS, CBT allows me to help you with your anxiety by teaching you how to identify and challenge negative thinking patterns, and understand the connections between thoughts, behaviours, and emotions, while helping you to desensitize yourself to anxiety-inducing situations, develop coping strategies, and modify behaviour patterns.

DBT, on the other hand, enables me to help you with your anxiety through the development of emotional regulation skills, distress tolerance techniques, and problem-solving strategies, while teaching you how to set realistic boundaries, better navigate social interactions, build healthier relationships, and be more present through the use of mindfulness.

But even though I prefer to focus on these methods, I will always personalize my approach to your unique needs, utilizing other modalities whenever necessary, including Mindfulness, Motivational Enhancement, Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), Emotion-Focused Individual Therapy, and Somatic Experiencing.

All things considered, I know that looking for an anxiety counsellor online can seem like a daunting task, and it can definitely be a stressful thing to do, especially with how tough it can be to find a counsellor whom you actually connect with.

But after learning how to manage my own anxiety, and helping countless clients to deal with theirs, I know I can help you with whatever makes you anxious.

After going through all of this stuff myself, it gives me great joy to help clients overcome their anxiety, and seeing them learn how to better deal with it has been incredibly meaningful for me.

So, if you’re looking for an anxiety counsellor online, and you’d like to connect with someone who understands exactly what you’re going through, I would be very excited to hear from you.

#online counselling #anxiety counselling #help with anxiety #mental health counsellor

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twilight-orchid · 3 years

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How the Undatebales React After A Fight

Thank you to my friendo @wholelottatiffy who helped me brainstorm this one. I’m only on chapter 19 at the moment, so I haven’t interacted with anyone but Diavolo much. And thank you to everyone who wanted a follow up to my previous post, I did not expect that. Y’all are super sweet!

tw: Fighting (a bit more in depth than my first post), description of panic attack, minor name calling, insecurity, depression, angst with resolution.

Diavolo:

Diavolo doesn’t know what to do with himself.

To start, we need to talk about how the argument unfolds.

He’s not used to arguing.

He’s Lord Diavolo, Prince of The Devildom, head of the RAD student council. No one defys him on anything.

So you raising your voice at him, trying to get him to see your way,

It was very overwhelming.

He tried to reason calmly with you at first, but he felt cornered.

When fight or flight kicked in, his body chose fight.

His wings burst open in all their glory as he screamed back, his towering frame far more intimidating than yours.

The blind rage is slapped out of him when he sees your terrified face.

If you’re at the castle, he’ll order you to leave if you haven’t already. Anywhere else, he’ll turn and leave without a word.

He wants to put distance between you both for fear of making things worse.

He absolutely cannot believe he just blew up at you. He would have never thought he'd raise his voice at his partner regardless of the situation.

He can’t shake the image of you flinching from him from his mind.

Now, being the prince of hell certainty has it’s perks; He has power, influence, and everything he could want.

But the one thing he wants the most seems to evade him no matter what: a friend.

A real friend.

He has Barbatos and Lucifer, but it’s Barbatos’ job to accompany the prince, and Lucifer is bound to Diavolo whether he likes the future king or not.

MC was the first person who chooses to be with and around him for no other reason than the fact that they love him.

And now he’s terrified them. Gotten in their face and screamed at them.

He assumes he’s permanently driven you away.

As soon as you leave or he gets home, he rushes to find Barbatos. To explain what happened and hope his butler would know what to do.

He’ll text Lucifer and ask him to check on you as well.

He just feels lost.

He wanders the palace aimlessly and he can’t focus on his work without his thoughts drifting to you.

He doesn’t feel like going to school or even getting out of bed. He doesn’t want to speak to anyone - to put on a happy face and pretend his world isn’t shaking.

Yet, a prince has his responsibilities. He will go about his normal public appearances as usual, smile and laugh and carry on, but it’s a mask.

Those close to him clearly notice the prince isn’t himself.

After school he visits the spots that you two visit together frequently.

Anything to make him feel as if you are still at his side.

If you don’t sleep in his bed that night, he’ll take it as proof that he was right and that you don’t want to be with him anymore.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He clutches your pillow that still smells of you and just bawls.

He will tell Barbatos he feels unwell the next morning and to postpone his obligations for the day.

This prompts Barbatos to seek you out and see if he can help resolve the issue.

Barbatos tries to stay out of your relationship as he doesn't feel it's his business, but his job is to assist Diabolo in any way necessary. And right now, he needs you more than anything.

If you sleep at his side still, it will be a glimmer a hope. That all may not be lost.

He’ll give you you space that night. He’ll walk around you on eggshells but always watch you from the corner of his eye to gauge the temperature.

He avoids your gaze, stays on the other side of the room as you prepare for bed, and as much as it kills him, doesn’t hug you or kiss you goodnight.

He spends the night staring at your sleeping face and making silent promises that, if you forgive him, he will never let this happen again.

He thinks of how to apologize. What he could say, what he could do.

Ultimately though, it feels like everything he could think of is too little of an apology.

He pretends to be asleep when he sees you stir and decides to let you choose if you want to forgive him on your own.

You will have to approach him first.

He thinks losing his temper with you was unacceptable and feels like he has no right to ask for your forgiveness.

Worse, he’s terrified of not being given forgiveness.

Thus, I feel a fight with Diavolo will take as long as you let it. He’s willing to suffer as long as you need him to.

Barbatos:

Barbatos doesn’t argue. He sits quietly and watches you, his responses calm but absolute.

He’s no pushover, he will defend his side, but he’s not going to enter a screaming match. It’s just not him.

You know you’ve really gotten under his skin when he offers a tight, forcefully pleasant smile.

He finally shuts down the conflict with "It's your right to feel that way just as it's mine to disagree." And leave it at that.

Post argument, he will avoid you and lock his feelings about the fight inside.

He tells himself he doesn’t have time to deal with the terrible feeling clawing at his heart and takes to his duties as an escape.

If you sleep in another room, he realizes that this isn’t a minor disagreement and he’s suddenly very distressed.

His instinct is to use his future vision.

To scour the timelines and see how the different versions of himself handle it and to replicate the one with the most desirable outcome.

However, he stops himself. He feels it isn’t fair to you.

You have a right to be upset about things and he doesn’t want to manipulate the situation, and by extension, you.

Thus, he must find another way to cope.

He’s always a devoted butler, but it’s not his whole life.

He takes time for himself throughout the day and in the evenings. Unless Diavolo needs him, nights are usually his to do with as he wants.

Now, however, his identity becomes Diavolo’s butler.

He’s constantly asking for extra work and hovering more than usual around the young lord in hopes of being given a task.

Diavolo finds it odd and asks about it, but he brushes it off. This isn’t anyone else’s business, least of all his employer’s.

Even though Barbatos won’t tell him, Diavolo can clearly tell his friend is off.

In hopes of giving him something to distract himself with, Diavolo requests hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies and Barbatos jumps on the opportunity.

Baking has always been his escape as well as his happy place. Diavolo’s favorite isn’t easy to make, so he looked forward to the task.

And it worked. Keeping track of the ingredients, the steps, and the technique required was enough to occupy his mind.

But then it was time to wait for it to bake.

He suddenly feels trapped in the suffocating silence of the kitchen.

His mind replays the argument on repeat as he falls down a rabbit hole of what ifs.

He loves you more than anything and the last thing he could ever want is for you to be mad at him.

No, the worst thing would to no longer be able to call you his.

Suddenly, he becomes aware of the sharp scent of burnt food.

He jumps up and runs to the oven. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed the timer go off.

He pulls the blackened desert out, puts the cookie sheet on the stove top, and just stares at the burnt cookies.

His sight blurs and a soft sob escapes from the prison he’s created in his heart.

He wasn’t crying because he burnt the cookies, but because they were a visual representation of everything he’s been trying to suppress.

Once he collects himself, he knows he can’t continue like this.

He doesn’t want to invade your space in case you’re still mad, but he needs a resolution.

He’ll send a quick text and silently begs you to respond.

“MC, I understand if you are still upset with me, but would you be willing to talk though it? I look forward to hearing from you.”

If you still sleep with him that night, it is a great weight off of his shoulders.

He hopes it means that it will be easier to make up with you and that you aren’t too mad.

When you wake up, he will be watching you like he has all night with a small, tired smile.

He’ll put on your favorite tea as you get ready for the day then asks if you’d be willing to talk things over.

Because of how it affects both his job and himself, a fight with Barbados will not last long. He’ll seek a resolution by one, maybe two days tops.

Solomon:

Lucifer may be the avatar of pride, but Solomon can certainly give the demon a run for his money.

In the moment of a particularly heated argument, he absolutely will not admit he’s wrong.

In fact, he really doesn’t consider it a possibility.

There’s no point in trying to get him to see your side until things have calmed down. It’s like talking to a brick wall.

He won’t yell, but he gets a pissy, condescending tone and almost talks down to you.

If you really push his buttons, his patience with this “useless” argument runs out.

“Oh please, listen to yourself! You’re acting like a dull child!”

Freezes as soon as it leaves his mouth.

He didn’t mean to say that.

He opens his mouth to apologize immediately, but upon seeing your hurt reaction he becomes flustered and can’t get the words out.

He’ll simply turn and leave.

He’s absolutely furious with himself.

Solomon is old and wise. He’s seen many things, been many places, and he knows many things.

Sometimes though, he needs a reminder that he doesn’t know everything.

Even if he still feels he was right, he knows name-calling is unacceptable.

In fact, he doesn’t miss the irony that he was the one being childish.

His self-fury is replaced by overwhelming worry if you sleep in another room that night.

Of all the treasures he’s come across, none were as precious as you.

He can’t stand the thought of losing you because of his thoughtlessness.

For once, he feels like an idiot.

He locks himself in his study that night and brainstorms on how to make it up to you.

He decides to approach you in the morning at RAD. He’s terrified that you think he actually meant the insult and wants to clear the air as soon as possible.

He’s afraid of you taking anything less than his highest praise to heart or for you to think that he views you as below himself.

The thought of how he must have made you feel makes him sick to his stomach.

The more he thinks about it, the more his body demands that he act.

While he has many virtues, patience is not high on his list.

Assuming you returned to The House of Lamentation that night, he’ll text Asmo to explain what happened and asks if he’d let him in first thing in the morning.

Thus, when you leave to head for breakfast, be careful not to trip over your sorcerer who’s seated against the wall outside of your room.

He scrambles to his feet, his hair and clothes a mess and bags heavy under his eyes.

“MC! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just- *sighs* I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Would you be willing to discuss the matter again? The right way this time.”

If you do sleep with him, he’s at least relieved that you don’t seem like you plan to leave him.

Once again, however, he wants to clear the air as soon as he can.

You’ll both be sitting in silence as you get ready for bed. He’s clearly lost in thought, his eyes focused unblinking on his feet and any movements slow and disjointed.

He's not sure how to apologize, if it's too soon, and is afraid to make things worse if it's not an appropriate time.

However, seeing you move about the room he decides to risk it so he doesn't risk losing you.

Suddenly, he stands up straight and locks eyes with you.

“MC, we don’t have to talk about the fight tonight, but I need you to know that I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry.”

It’s up to you if you want to forgive him immediately, but he will at least apologize for the insult as soon as he gathers his thoughts.

Simeon:

If you yell at him, Simeon is just gonna sit there stunned

Your relationship is usually as laid back as he is, so he doesn't know what to do with you blowing up at him.

All he knows it that this is bad and he needs to find a way to make you happy again.

The thought of losing you takes precedence over everything and, though he will not sway to your side just because you’re upset, the argument loses any worth it had to him.

He’ll go to Solomon almost immediately in hopes your fellow human might know better about how arguments are resolved between human couples.

He becomes very distressed when Solomon says everyone handles it differently. He then asks what he should to make up with you specifically.

He doesn't have a defined emotion right now, he's just on edge. He wants to gather information first and foremost so he can figure out what to do from there.

He’s just a walking ball of anxiety and those close to the angel even become concerned. No one has seen him like this before.

If you decide to sleep in another room, the anxiety just takes over.

His chest feels like fiery chains are crushing his ribs, he can hear his heart is hammering in his head, and his body begins to shake as if he were buried in an avalanche.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying as he struggles to breathe.

Solomon had expected something like this may happen so he made sure to be nearby to help coach him though it.

Once he’s calmed down, Solomon urges him to talk to you as soon as possible.

Simeon isn't sure though. True, he wasn't in a good place, but he didn't want to push you if you weren't ready to talk.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t feel like he can think let alone coherently tell you how he feels.

He begins to feel overwhelmed again and decides to try writing down his thoughts in hopes of it helping him sort through the tsunami of emotions consuming him.

While it doesn't completely calm him down, it does help.

He stares down at the messy, tear blotted papee and has an idea.

The next morning you should expect to find a hand-written letter slipped under you door.

The letter is long and and rambling. His usually pristine handwriting is as shaky as his hands were when writing it.

It's not as dense and heartbroken as his original one, but the further it goes the more desperate his words become.

He writes about how much you mean to him and apologizes for allowing things to get that intense. He writes that he loves you and doesn’t want to lose you.

He reminisces about his favorite memories of you two together more than once.

Finally, that no disagreement you two could ever have is more importantly to him than being with you.

It's really just a collection of everything sitting on his heart at the moment.

That day at RAD he’ll watch you from the sidelines and pray you approach him about the letter so you two can work things out.

If you still sleep in his bed, he’ll be very conflicted about if he should approach you yet.

He’s afraid of making it worse if you’re still mad.

However, Simeon is an open book when it comes to his emotions so you will absolutely be able to tell that he’s freaking out.

So please, save the man a terrible night and talk it though with him.

He wants you to not be angry anymore, but even if you’re still upset just having concrete information to cling to will help him immensely.

He’s thinking of all the worst case scenarios and needs reassurance that the relationship isn’t over.

Simeon will try to make up within a day, so however long it lasts after that is up to you.

Luke (MC is his best friend):

Luke will be very, very distressed.

You’re his best friend aside from Simeon. Friends don’t fight like this, right?

Wait, so if you’re fighting with him, does that mean you’re not his friend anymore???

As soon as the thought enters his mind, he decides that must be the case.

Real friends don’t fight with each other like this.

Externally he takes a “I don’t need a lousy human like you for a friend anyway” attitude.

He’s not just testy with you though, anyone who interacts with him that day learns that chihuahuas bite.

Simeon immediately realizes something isn’t right and is very concerned.

As soon as he asks him what’s wrong, Luke's mask of anger is discarded and he tosses himself in the older angel’s arms crying hysterically.

He doesn’t want to lose you for a friend.

I doubt Luke has ever truly argued with someone so this uncharted territory is earth shattering to him.

Simeon, as he tries to calm Luke, he will text you and ask you to come to wherever they are immediately.

Because of Simeon’s intervention, the fight will only go undiscussed for a few hours max.

Again, sorry if I don’t know these characters as well as I’d like yet. Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obeyme #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x reader #Obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x mc #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon x mc #obey me luke #obey me undateables #obey me headcanons

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aenaxes-moved · 3 years

Text

inertia

[crosshair x gn!reader] removing crosshair's inhibitor chip was never going to be an easy task, but you never expect it to demand an item of equal exchange. otherwise known as picking up the pieces with crosshair, together.

warnings: past paralytic injury, general angst, hurt-comfort

w/c: 2.2k

a/n: as much as i hate physics, you can't deny there's a poetry to the laws of the universe. inertia keeps heavy objects in place, and guilt's one of the heaviest burdens of all.

There are certain universal laws you learn while living on a ship, like the slightly upsetting fact that magnetism is relative and so is time. But there are constants: the behavior of gravity around a massive star, the physics of self-contained gas giants, and, on a less macrocosmic scale, that Crosshair’s armor has neat paint, all clean lines and sharp edges bordering plastoid and standard issue paint.

It only makes sense, a steady hand demanded by a life behind the trigger, you think quietly, watching Crosshair carefully scrape the excess red paint from his brush on the side of a flat scrap of metal. With only the low hum of the Marauder to fill the silence, you follow his brush as you stand in the armory threshold and simply observe the slow deliberation of an even, unwavering line drawn from a memory even the inhibitor chip could not blur.

Not that it’s a particularly difficult thing to paint, the sharp, stylized edge of a nine. But there is a silent weight to its image, a firm and resonant return in its bold crimson colour, reclaiming its rightful place on his shoulder in amends, if the restless bob of his toothpick says anything.

If you look long enough, it’s like he never left. Like you never lost your legs.

“You’re back early,” Crosshair says, dipping his brush back into the paint squeezed over his makeshift palette.

“The rest wanted to explore, but the humidity was getting to me. And I missed you,” you add, and your heart swells when you hear him laugh softly in return.

“I believe you,” he chuckles. It’s a rare thing to come by, laughter genuine and sweet, even with Crosshair’s return—perhaps, because of his return—but you take it gratefully either way.

Two cups of caf in hand, you push yourself off the doorway and move to join Crosshair at his place on the armory floor. But as you set a foot forward, a bolt of pain laces up your ankle. It’s the kind of pain that precipitates a fall, starting low in the arch of your foot, gaining a momentum that renders you immobile by the time it’s clawed up your thigh and fizzled around the cybernetic plate welded to the base of your spine.

It fells you without warning or remorse, cracking you open with the bone-deep sensation of memory. A single ultra-ionized shot through a modified rifle and silencer, calculated and surgically precise, a one of a kind and the only one you have known.

(It wasn’t his fault.)

You jerk forwards, caf sloshing dangerously close to the rim, and you distantly register the clatter of plastoid across the floor before you feel a shoulder push up from under your arm. Long fingers dig into your side, reminiscent of better days and tender touches shared in the quiet comfort of a bunk, and you pitch unsteadily, eyes squeezed tight enough to see white.

As much as you would like to confirm the certainty of a stable support before you can relax, the lingering dredges of atmospheric humidity and exhaustion of breaking into a high security imperial compound work cruelly against your strength. You can do little but give in.

Your knees buckle beneath you, and you sag against the only person on the ship able to brace your fall. Miraculously, the caf, handles squeezed tight under your white-knuckled grip, remains unspilled.

“I ruined your paint,” you laugh through your teeth, fuzzy black edges slowly receding from your field of vision as you blink your eyes open.

“And I shot you,” Crosshair hisses.

Crosshair lowers you to the floor, and you feel a full-bodied flinch shock through his form as your unmoving legs splay awkwardly over the cold metal. He is quick to take the cups out of your hand, setting them down with a hard clack before he returns his attention to you. You had always thought Echo would be the one on the receiving end of carefully placed touches to coax the pain of surgical scars and rough wiring away.

You never once dreamed it might be you, too.

One arm secured around your shoulders, he reaches down like it’s muscle memory to rub slowly over the scar tissue framing your implant. The scars are fresh, just barely a week old and forever seared over your skin, but guilt, you have found, tends to hasten the learning process, the scrambling compensation.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you sigh, leaning against Crosshair’s chest and dropping your head back against his shoulder.

“I aimed. I pulled the trigger, y/n.” He’s angry, a low, simmering rage held close and bubbling under the hard edge in his voice as his grip tightens around you. You feel it in the faint tremor in his arm, how he holds you tight to his side and silently wills you to stay.

He is angry, but it is not for you.

“You weren't you,” you mumble.

It’s second nature—it always has been, now, simply with pause—to turn your head when he’s nestled up against your back, to lean close, nuzzle into his neck, and ground yourself, ground him, in the silence of touch. Relief floods your chest, warm sunlight dawning over the thorn in your side, when you feel him chase your touch, settling both his arms around your waist and ducking down low to press his chin atop the crown of your head.

Nothing would ever be the same, but this was a start.

“If it wasn’t me,” Crosshair starts, his voice catching on a sputtering inhale, thick with the tangle of words unsaid. He clears his throat, and if you notice the curling edges of a tremor on his tongue, you say nothing. “If it wasn’t me, who else can you blame?”

“I don’t blame anyone,” you say into his skin, lips ghosting over his rapid pulse.

It’s a diplomatic answer. Of course you blame someone—Palpatine, Tarkin, the fact that Crosshair and his brothers, every last one of the clones, had been built around a single, biding initiative that he hadn’t the luck or the chance to resist. You had been sleeping with the enemy even before he knew that he could be the enemy.

But thinking about it makes your head spin. Blame is too hard, too tiring to place when you, yourself, had been sewn into its vast web. So while Crosshair had slept with a bacta patch plastered to his temple, you had rewired your spinal cord and decided to be away with the anger, the resentment, the mornings waking up in tears when you lifted your blanket and barely recognized that you had legs at all.

“Don’t fucking lie,” Crosshair spits, and you feel him shake around you. Anger, such an easy defense. Such a flimsy one.

“I’m not—”

“I hear you cry in the mornings when your cybernetics don’t click; I hear you scream when you try to move and your mind tells you one thing but your legs don’t fucking work because I made a killshot that paralyzed you—”

“And it paralyzed me because you had every chance to put a bolt through my head but you aimed for my back. You were fighting it, Cross,” you counter, voice quivering.

“But it was me. I took that shot, and you pretend like you don’t—like you don’t hate me because I still had my chip. But I remember it, and it was still me, and you have every right to—”

“Cross!” you shout, and he starts hard enough that you feel him jump. You feel blindly for his hand, gripped tight at his own wrist, and squeeze, hard. “I have my legs back. And sometimes they don’t work just right, but all I care about right now is that you’re back. It’s all I’ll ever care about.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he mumbles into your hair, the sudden burst of vitriol tamed and locked away for the moment.

You’re distinctly aware that he itches to push you away. You feel it in the uncertain pause rigid in his movements before he turns his palm to twine his fingers with yours. After all, it’s easier to cope when the object of your crushing guilt is at an arm’s length.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to comfort me, tell me that you missed me too and that I was right, and you say that everything’ll work out, Cross,” you laugh weakly. You gently knock your head against his collar, prodding, urging, anything to break the crushing silence you know haunts him every time he closes his eyes.

Instead, you feel a shuddering sigh against your ear, and Crosshair only dips his head low, hiding his face in your shoulder as his grip tightens around your waist. There is no sardonic quip or playful bite to offer you peace—only slow, mechanical breaths pressed into your skin in a desperate attempt to keep from falling apart altogether. You reach up, gingerly carding your fingers through his hair when you feel that telltale warmth seeping through the fabric of your shirt, salt sharp on your tongue.

“I shot you. I aimed to kill,” Crosshair mumbles, almost hysterical in level calm, the steady veil locking his tense jaw and drawn shoulders in place. “Why are you comforting me?”

“Would you rather I never speak to you again?” No malice in your tone, you shift your weight, bearing down against Crosshair and begging him to move closer. He does.

“It would be more believable if you did,” he mutters, and you catch the tail end of a soft sniff.

“Not really my thing, grudges,” you say. “Especially against the people I love.” Trailing your fingers lower, you slip below his hairline and begin stroking your palm over the back of his neck, bent forward at an unforgiving angle. You wonder how many times he’s curled into himself like this that he can simply sit, penance and grieving, and the ache that seizes your ribs hurts more than your cybernetic misfire.

“After all that,” he finally mumbles, something close to hushed awe in his voice. “You still love.”

Slowly, melting through the numb static crackle, you feel the sensation seeping back into your feet. You could always rebuild your mobility with some careful cerebrospinal implants, seasonal aches and occasional pains be damned, but you could never replace him.

“Of course I do,” you whisper back. Careful to keep the quiet, tremulous peace, you bring your hand down, sliding around the side of his neck to cup his jaw from behind, ignoring the wetness streaked over his skin. “Still loving,” you affirm, voice steady as you thumb over his cheek. “Still loving you.”

It takes a beat of silence, your words lingering in the still air of the armory, but instead of the tense, fraught grief of when your implant had fizzled out, there is warmth, present and forgiving. You know that nothing will ever be the same, but when Crosshair turns his head to press his lips into your palm, you know that you can still try. Like the waking groan of a crashed ship, you will pick up the pieces and power up one more time, again, again, again, as many times as it takes.

Crosshair nuzzles close, quietly basking in your presence as you sit curled together on the armory floor. And at last, his breaths still, slow and deep as the ship hums around you. He’s never been one for words, not even at his fever pitch of disorientation and distress. He doesn’t need to speak for you to know what he means when he clasps your hand again and holds tight, but his voice is a welcome sound all the same.

“Thank you.”

And for a while, that’s how you stay, breathing slowly and clinging to each other like moving apart would mean never coming back. And that’s how it genuinely does feel—the safety in stillness, carving out your own constant in the cosmic entropy of conquest and loss. For a moment, you can simply savor the quiet simplicity of being.

But the universe wills motion, stars colliding and collapsing and breathing new life all over again. So too, do you feel the strength return in lapsing waves to your legs and the coiled fear leach out of Crosshair’s posture.

“Promise me this,” you whisper, just loud enough to rise above the ambient noise of the ship as you curl your toes and feel again, lurching into motion like gears fallen into disrepair. Crosshair rouses behind you, and he sniffs deeply, once, before he presses his cheek to the side of your head—he is listening. “Promise me that we’ll move on.”

“I can’t promise that,” he says after a brief pause, words measured and low. “But I’ll try.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

As much as there are variables scattered through star systems and wreaking havoc wherever they go, so too are there constants pushing back against the chaos, aligning the universe. Like clockwork, when you wake, the stars turn, the gas giants dance, and when you squeeze Crosshair’s hand, he squeezes back.

#anyways if you want something to listen to while you read: we are by lee jin ah #that or: tunnel by colde #i just want him back hsdf #crosshair x reader #the bad batch x reader #yaej.writes

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beelspillowpet · 4 years

Text

A Lesson in Love - A “Character Analysis” on Asmodeus

I had to come for the tracks, wigs, and weaves of bitches when Pomade dropped because I saw people talking shit about my boy. This was a milestone “project” or “reward” I guess?

I hit 400 followers today while I was out running errands!!! Thank you guys SO SO MUCH for the love and support! I can’t WAIT to produce more content for everyone!!!

Below the cut there WILL BE talk of season 3, as well as some talk of chapter 16. There’s a healthy amount of theorizing on his personality as well, I hope you don’t mind! This came out more like a plea to get people to change their minds about how Asmo really is, rather than a comprehensive essay of sorts. So here we go!

There’s something we apparently still need to talk about in this fanbase. The unrealistic idea of Asmodeus being a sex freak, and an unreliable person in general despite there being little proof of it. We need to set a few things straight about Asmo moving forward.

December 25th rolled around and Asmo’s audio drama and song were released. I take it everyone enjoyed both parts, as well as I did. My timeline both on twitter and tumblr were filled with Asmodeus content, as well as the other brothers and such. But I mostly got Asmo content. However, in peeks and cracks, if I looked hard enough, I still saw people who absolutely loathed Asmo or who were indifferent to him. Keep in mind; I think it’s okay. You don’t have to like everyone.

I’ve only joined the fanbase in September, but even I could tell some of these takes were old fashioned. I downloaded the game on October 17th, a very important anniversary for me, while I

was still in bed in the morning. I blazed through the entire story of season 1 and now I am stuck in season 2, specifically in Chapter 24. I obviously don’t have every card of Asmodeus with his Devilgrams, but I have been analyzing his character over the past few days for this.

So needless to say, I have a considerable amount of information on him, as well as personal thoughts that may help some learn to love him. Or at the very least, from spreading a negative idea of him around as if it were true. Enough that should help clear his name, so to speak.

Let’s look at his title; Avatar of Lust. Now naturally the thoughts that come to your head are sex and other sexual bits. So I can understand how some people would come to the conclusion that he’s just a sex freak. But if you look under the surface of his title, like I’m sure you’ve had to for your own personal favorites (*cough* Lucifer, Belphie, and Satan ESPECIALLY) you would discover that Asmodeus is more than just about sex. In fact, sex takes up very little of his pass time, if you were to believe it!

In recent chapters, as I’ve been told, Asmodeus doesn’t really get around much anyways:

Granted, this was said while in Celestia, but I imagine not much has changed for him since his fall, as well as his brothers.

Not really comfortable being with just anyone, huh…? Sounds like someone who doesn’t have sex so warily often as you’d think!

Being lustful can come in many shapes and forms. It can be merely in appearance, which Asmo is not afraid of doing. He’s very comfortable about skinship and it’s very apparent in how he dresses and acts that he wants you to adore his body. To worship it! Maybe not sexually, but aesthetically! Being lustful can mean just thinking about sex or sexual scenarios often, which if you take a peek at Asmo’s chat’s either with you or his brothers, is very apparent too.

Personally, I believe that people would assume he is not good in a relationship because he would have a “cheating problem”. I don’t think Asmo is a monster, just like I don’t think any of the brothers are monsters. They may be demons (technically fallen angels) now but they used to be angels too. Their falling out with their Father doesn’t mean they’ve completely abandoned morality, it was a rebellion for Lilith’s right to live. Not for them to sin as they pleased. For all we know they might have been fine in Heaven otherwise! (with the exception of Lucifer.)

A monster knows right from wrong and chooses evil anyways. An ignorant person doesn’t know right from wrong. Asmodeus is not a monster, nor is he ignorant.

When Asmo genuinely loves you, I think he would take steps to calm down that side of him, if it were to exist. Lust is fairly limited, but it is a part of love to some extent. LOVE is vastly different. Love has many languages, and they aren’t all spoken either. For me, personally, I found that Lucifer’s love language can be either very direct, or roundabout so as to not let it go to your head, for an example. Asmo is just far more direct about his care for you.

I feel as though Asmo gets a lot of crap constantly for his presumed nature and because we don’t get to see much else of him at first, especially in season 1, his impression on us sort of stays. With most of the fanbase either somewhat new to the game or somewhere lost in the sea of the difficulty curve that is season 2, we can only assume based on what we’ve seen, and what others have headcanoned about him.

Let’s break and talk about Satan for a moment; this is going somewhere.

I’m led to believe that Satan can control his sin fairly well. He’s easy to get irritated, sure, but he isn’t as much of a walking ball of rage as I suspected. I would argue that, aside from Leviathan, Satan can handle his sin the best out of the brothers. But again, we’re forgetting about Asmo. The Avatar of “Lust”. Like I’ve shown before, he doesn’t really sleep around a lot, according to anon.

At worst, Asmo being flirty is through text and he’s not actively trying to sleep with you. It can be interpreted that way, but for me personally, it comes down to having a friend that is very up close and in your personal space.

(I myself am one of these types of people. Having ADHD, my social cues are always sort of off, and I’ve struggled with coping with it for years. With my best friend, we have seen each other naked countless times and have slept in the same bed as well. We were never romantic with each other. We were just very comfortable being close and personal with each other.)

I’d like to point out also that Asmo isn’t even there for most of season 1 too. Which can give you the idea that maybe he just was out sleeping around a lot, but to me he probably just went out partying a lot. You don’t get known that fast for sleeping around. Maybe in 5,000 years, sure, but I’d imagine being a party boy, as his Devilgram “Guided by Desire” suggests.

So the idea that Asmo isn’t in the house a lot because he’s out having sex all the time isn’t true is it? He’s probably just out partying, which can LEAD to sex with someone sure, but again, Asmo doesn’t feel comfortable doing that, now does he?

I feel like of all the boys, Asmo is the one who radiates with everyone else the most. Most people will never realize how surreal it is that Asmo is faking it until he makes it. He doesn’t always think he’s beautiful, or that he’s worth all the love he’s striving and straining to get. Something that is extremely relatable for a lot of people with self-worth issues. Asmo is just like that, but instead being sarcastic and self-deprecating, he simply works to make himself look as beautiful as possible, so that in his eyes, his beauty matches the affection he gets.

Which is why, when he falls in love with you, it’s strange. You are constantly telling him he’s nice and pretty, but you aren’t lusting after him. You’re just being nice. It may just be me, but when people are overly nice just for the sake of being nice, I’m very attracted to that. That is Asmo, to some extent. The fact that he reflects the insecurities and habits of others so clearly may make others uncomfortable, but that brutal honesty veiled behind insecurity is what a lot of people with self-image issues deal with.

Now for me to share my favorite personal idea for Asmo that completely changed how I saw him in season 1 onwards; Asmodeus is an empath. Now let me explain:

First, what is an Empath?

The term empath comes from empathy, which is the ability to understand the experiences and feelings of others outside of your own perspective. Seems simple, right? Everyone can do this to some extent. However, what makes you an empath is the fact that empaths genuinely feel the same pain as you do. So much so your experience becomes a very personal part of their own. They are capable of being able to feel other people’s emotions without them speaking, or even showing signs of it through their body language.

This would explain, for me personally, why there’s so little of him in season 1. The intensity of what goes on in the house, his sensitive soft-spoken mannerisms, the only time he truly gets mad is when he’s childishly arguing with Mammon? Asmo is afraid of true conflict, he’s afraid of violence and negative emotions. Let’s face it; everyone is indifferent or hates you at the start of the game.

While this changes fairly quickly, all the intense feelings come to a head in chapter 16. All those negative emotions swirling around, of course Asmo isn’t going to want to be in the house when it’s that intense. The attic didn’t just disappear completely, too. Belphie was still in the attic hating humans. That negative emotion could be affecting Asmo and he didn’t know why, so he could have been out of the house more.

Where Asmo can feel the emotions of others, it may mostly be the negative ones because they fill him with anxiety and panic if it persists. Which can be helpful in making him so urgent to want to make others smile and feel better, right?

Imagine being intimate with Asmodeus, and suddenly you aren’t in the mood for it anymore but don’t want to make things awkward. He could pick up on it in an instant and wouldn’t get mad because he understands how you feel completely.

Now to close this out about something that genuinely hurts me; Asmodeus is a narcissist.

I mean, the wiki says that he is, but personally? No, no he isn’t. Since when is loving yourself a bad thing? Sure he may go a bit far sometimes, but people with self-image issues need to go a little harder than the rest to make sure they're getting the love they need.

(Talking about myself AGAIN, but I do this a lot. At random, I will look up in my own mirror in front of my desk that I sit in front of all day and tell myself I am a cute bitch. I am VERY VERY cute and anyone would be lucky to have someone as drop dead gorgeous as myself. I say that a few times a day. In reality, I am very insecure about my looks. I do believe I’m cute, but sometimes it’s hard to say it. Which is why I force myself. Why wouldn’t Asmo do the same?)

Talking yourself up to be as beautiful as a sex god is no easy task, but Asmo isn’t the Avatar of “Lust” for no reason. When an insecure girl talks up her beauty, it’s her being strong and independent. When Asmo does it, its narcissism… it doesn’t really seem fair, now does it? Maybe he’s just an insecure person who needs to tell himself ALL THE TIME that he’s beautiful. That if he stares at his reflection long enough, he may see it too.

(Also, Simeon literally calls him out on being insecure. Insecure people tend to try and overcompensate where they feel they’re lacking.)

”Asmodeus is hinted to be insecure and seeking for love and attention. When Simeon was asked about what he thought of Asmodeus, he says that Asmodeus is still trying to fulfill the role of the angel he used to be; an angel that was adored and loved by many. Asmodeus laughs at Simeon's remark and brushes it off by saying that he is only jealous.” - A section from said Asmodeus Wiki.

People can choose to love or hate Asmo, obviously. Making things up about his character without having anything but speculation and having that dictate how he acts is plain silly. This entire “essay” if you can call it that, comes from the heart. I love Asmo as a character, and in the beginning he did make me uncomfortable, I didn’t like him that much. But I learned to look past that and figure out why he acts the way he does. Something didn’t sit right with me about him for a while, and it was that air of insecurity that I didn’t see at first.

All I can really ask for, is giving Asmo another chance as a character. He’s not as wild and wacky as Mammon, or as cool and sexy as Lucifer, or as edgy and precious as Belphie, but he matters in this story too. He fell from grace with his brothers for Lilith. Give him another chance, and let him show you that he is the Avatar of Love.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #om!#om! swd #om! asmo #om! asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #Thanks for 400 followers!

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advanceagility · 2 years

Text

Agile and Emotional Intelligence

We heard the word ‘Emotional Intelligence’ a lot this recent year. It is also used in businesses now.

But how does it affect businesses?

What does it mean?

When it comes to the intelligence we always think of IQ- Intelligence Quotient. But now businesses are valuing emotional intelligence as it is a better indicator of a person's success in a career. We already know IQ is a score of a person’s reasoning ability derived from some set of tests. Whereas, emotional intelligence is the ability to understand, manage, identify and use emotions positively. An emotionally intelligent person knows how to handle stress, communicate effectively, overcome challenges, defuse conflict and emphasize with others.

With changing times organizations are focusing more on being agile. But while doing so they are more concentrated on making their processes agile but neglect to make their employees agile. But smart organizations know to make both agile. Emotional Intelligence is an important aspect of developing an agile workforce. With EQ training organizations can train employees to be more resilient, keen listeners, lifelong learners, clear and good communicators, proactive and collaborative.

Why Emotional Intelligence is Important in Agile?

Agile heavily depends on teamwork and more honest, transparent communication both within and outside the team with stakeholders and clients. Hence leaders and employees need to have better control over their emotions to handle any situation and provide the agile required qualities. It is difficult for leaders with less EQ to control their own emotions which will affect their everyday work creating issues in their leadership.

EQ is a skill and it can be developed. Emotional intelligence can be practiced and set in the person with the help of training and in many agile organizations training to boost the EQ of employees are a regular part of the work system. Let’s see ways to boost Emotional Intelligence in agile organizations or any other organizations.

Avoid Conflicts

Conflicts will never bring any positive solution to the discussion. Be aware of your trigger points and try to avoid them this will help in avoiding conflict and can save lots of effort later to normalize that situation. In some cases you will observe others causing conflict even after you are avoiding it then it is wise to leave the location for some time or calm them.

Learn to Cope with Failure

Many times failures cause us to lose our confidence in ourselves. But instead of thinking that we are permanently deficient we can identify the reason for our failure and learn to overcome them and do better. This will give us an ability to digest failure and improve ourselves for further situations making us better EQ people.

Be Responsible for Your Actions

An honest attempt to make things right is more welcomed by people than avoiding responsibility for your actions. It also creates a good image of yours. If you have hurt anyone’s feelings apologize directly without ignoring what you did. Before taking any action put yourself in other's shoes and see how it will affect them. Always examine your actions before taking them and be sure what you are doing is needed or not.

Manage Emotional Health

Good emotional health brings good spirit to our work and daily life boosting our confidence and energy to be active. When genuine interest is shown in others and pays attention to their words, actions, and responses you will observe a boost in your social life. Be alert to your emotional health and try to maintain it.

“Self-care is how you take your power back.”- Lalah Delia

Be Aware of your Words as well as Body Language

We are not aware of words and our expressions and how they impact others. Even not aware of what our body language is telling us. Impactful positive body language can be learned, ask any trusted team member to provide you immediate feedback after any event. This will help you soften your delivery and be aware of what your body language indicates to others.

Pre-Framing and Reviewing

To obtain exciting and meaningful learning pre-framing and reviewing are commonly used teaching techniques. In pre-framing teams discuss what needs to be done before starting the work. Doing so while working brain is already engaged. This method helps in understanding the difficulties that can be faced and hence gives chance to brainstorm solutions.

After completion of the product, reviewing is done by the team with a twist of explaining two things they learned about users. This helps in closing the gap between the user and the team.

Provide Meaningful and Worthwhile Feedback

Avoid giving false compliments and also be clear with your feedback. Hollow statements generally backfire and are never appreciated. Always try to add a description to comments at the end for adding value. This creates a better understanding of your comment and expectations creating a meaningful connection between the team and you.

These tips will help your team with success and help you have fun exploring your emotional intelligence.

About Advance Agility

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#scaled agile framework #emotional intelligence #business #agile software development

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

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Idk whats with me and angst but male (or if you want gender neutral) sole dying in romanced compainions + skinny malone arms?

(There are quite a few characters I didn't do..so anyone can request those individual and I'll see about writing them at a later date..just..wow. Ummm..major trigger warnings btw)

It was inevitable..wasn't it? Deep down, this truth was just one of those that was inescapable. The fearsome Sole Survivor was many things; they were determined, they were skilled, they were adaptable..they were amazing in every way- a paragon of a person..however there is one thing they were not.

Indestructible.

No one was. Shit, the Wasteland loved to remind people of that- be it in the forms of ghouls, hellish monsters or whatever- so perhaps this day shouldn't have came as such a surprise. Nevertheless, there was no comfort found within this knowledge.

The day was too pretty of one for something like this to happen. The sunshine was bright, not a cloud in the sky- a gentle breeze passing the pair by as they scavenged the archaic ruins for copper of all things- fucking copper.

Raiders were common in these kinds of areas, but that was no issue. Sole had no issue handling raiders, or anything else for that matter. Well, or so they thought.

Soon the peacefulness of that lovely day was interrupted by the whizzing of bullets and the shouts of obscenities as a small band of raiders made their presence known- effectively ambushing the pair. It was sort of funny in a fucked up way. The fight itself lasted barely ten minutes, just a blue of adrenaline and silent prayers, and the warmth of that beautiful sunshine beating on their back.

They hadn't noticed the blue of that infamous jump suit staining red until it was far too late, not until the wearer collapsed down to their knees as though they were about to beg for the life slowly fading either such rivet of blood being spilled.

Now it was even quicker.

Of course, they rushed to their precious Sole Survivor, horrified, yet still hopeful. They'd try so hard to lift them up, dread filling their veins whenever their loved one cried out in pain from the movement. However they still thought that somehow their dear would make it. Maybe it was foolish naivety.

Then there it was, a certain look within the Sole Survivor's eyes that held a promise. This was it. This was it and all they could do was watch as they died, the lovely sunlight and peaceful breeze serving as the only witness to this atrocity.

This wasn't right. Why did the world not reflect the way this scene was playing out? This was no time for sunshine and happiness, not when the only person they've loved so profoundly could only give them a watery smile..not as they slowly lost the strength to hold their hand to their cheek...

Not as the light finally dimmed and the world as they knew it was consumed by the darkness their former light now took away.

~~~~~~

Cait:

"Son of a bitch..sweetheart, you can't just..you can't just leave me like this- it's..it's not right! You come back, fuck! Please! Come come back.."

•Cait wasn't one to cry, always being more predispositions for rage than tears...however despite how hard she tried all she could do was wail until all that came out was dry tears and hoarse yells.

•After this, Cait would isolate herself from others save for sparking up terrjbke brawls where she knew she was outmatched.

•She just hoped she would finally lose the fight.

Curie:

"Please hang on, I-I can fix you! Please, mon amour, don't leave Curie just yet!"

•She's completely in shock, frantically trying to administer Med-x, Stimpacks, Jet- anything! All it does is worsen your condition unfortunately, the chems overwhelming you and eating at what remained of your life that much faster.

•A piece of her knew this, deep down at least.

•Let's just say, Curie wouldn't quite be the same after this. Not just in the "I lost someone I loved kind of way", no, more in the "I've seen far too much and can't quite cope" kind of way. Her eyes would forever be scarred with the image of your own becoming red from the busted blood vessels and your horrified, sweet face.

Danse:

"I'm truly sorry..damn it..I'm sorry I couldn't protect you either."

•In Danse's mind, you were yet another person he cared for that got killed because of his negligence. Only your death was much more profound- yes. With the death of his other brothers and sisters, he could still soldier through..but with you? The person he could only regard with love? He might've as well died with you.

•The only thing Danse can think of to do to hopefully bring you peace is bury you right outside your little home himself, hysterically crying and drunk out of his mind.

•It wouldn't be very long after this that Danse could no longer handle the pain of loss- no amount of liquor taking the vision of your smiling face at your once shared bedside from his mind.

•At least your friends would have the decency to bury him at your side after they got over the shock of finding him.

Hancock:

"Hey sunshine..don't worry, we..we won't be apart for too long. Heh, it's gonna be okay..it's all gonna be alright."

•The small window of time it takes for your life to leave you, Hancock comes to the horrific realization that he was soon to be doomed to a tragically long life without the one person at his side that made him feel worthy of living..

•Without giving it much more thought than that, he'd just simply stroke your cheek- pressing a soft kiss to your head whenever he was certain you had bled out completely, your blood throughly coating his chest and thighs. After the kiss, he'd take a deep breath before drawing his own pistol and..bang.

Maxson:

"P..please..don't leave..no,no,..please don't leave me.."

•If Sarah's death hurt Arthur, your's was devastating.

•Even after he knew full well that you were dead and gone, he still tries his best to keep you "alive". He'd rush you into a vertibird and call for you aid, having to face the fact you were truly gone when Captain Cade clasped him over the shoulder and gave him a solemn look.

•Arthur cried then, and then later into the night until all that came out were pathetic sobs.

•The only thing that keeps him going is his obligation to duty..but..sometimes he considers leaning just a little too close to the gage of the forecastle..maybe fly like some sort of mythical being before finally being able to hold you once more.

Skinny Malone:

"Oh come on doll face, it's..it's gonna between alright. Shhh, I'm right here..just..god..just relax."

•How did this even happen? He knew better than to indulge your need to scavenge..there wasn't even any need with his connections..why..why did this happen?

•He'd try so hard to keep it together, clenching the fabric of your vault suit until eventually his men come to him..then he can't contain the terrible cries that result.

X6-88:

"(Y/n), don't. You..you can't..oh..I..I don't know what to do without you.."

•As someone who knew death so well, he knew from the second you fell, the way that you fell, you were dead.

•Just for you, he'd try to keep that cold exterior he was once so good at portraying..but it lasts a mere second before tears start rolling down his face and spilling onto your's.

•He'd sit there, cradling your cooling body well into the setting of the gloriously shining sun, wondering just what he was going to do from here.

•Nothing. He no longer knew what to do

#tw death #tw suicide mention #fallout 4 #fallout #paladin danse #fo4 companions #fallout companions #danse #elder maxson #curie #skinny Malone #x688

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darkpetal16 · 3 years

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Can we see anything about the Jujutsu story? I'm so excited to see all the chaos!!

Sure thing! I'll take some scenes from chapter one. They haven't been edited yet and I don't have a beta so please forgive the typos / lack of description.

April 13th, 2000

Éclosion was a town of over 25,000 citizens in France. It was a suburb a few hours from Paris, and was known as one of the safer towns in France.

On April 13th, in the year 2000, the entire population of Éclosion instantly died from an “unknown” cause.

To most of the world, it was a bizarre tragedy, something to be marked down as an unsolved mystery for the history books. Each citizen had simultaneously suffocated within a few minutes of being exposed to… something.

Something that could not leave behind a physical trace of its existence yet was so overwhelming it simultaneously strangled over 25,000 living beings within Éclosion.

To a very small group of people, they knew the truth.

That town did not die by ordinary means, rather, from the sheer spiritual pressure exerted by a very dangerous being.

To that small group of people, they assumed it was the work of a curse.

Curses were created when cursed energy leaked from humans as a result of their human emotion. Cursed energy would build up in areas like sediment until it is strong enough to manifest a form. They were known to be lethal when left alone.

Populated locations such as schools and hospitals are hot spots for creating curses because many negative emotions were associated with those places. The same concept applies humanity's collective fear and hatred. An image of fear shared by the masses can create a powerful curse even if the subject was not real, such as famous monsters or ghosts. The negative emotions that humanity directed at that singular fear would cause it to manifest as a curse and in time… a cursed spirit.

Cursed spirits’ bodies are entirely made up of cursed energy--or spiritual energy. Their metaphysical existence made it impossible for normal humans to perceive or touch them.

Only a small group of humans were able to interact with cursed spirits, and in turn, combat them.

They were known as Jujutsu Sorcerers.

Jujutsu Sorcerers formed a society over the past thousands of years to work in the shadows to supress curses in an effort to protect humanity. All Jujutsu Sorcerers were trained in their youth at one of the two Jujutsu educational facilities in either Tokyo or Kyoto in Japan. At those facilities, they were taught how to utilize their own cursed energy in order to exorcise cursed spirits.

After graduating, alumni Sorcerers who remain aligned with the schools typically used one of the two facilities as a home base. Those facilities served as the cornerstone for the Jujutsu Sorcerer community. They mediated issues, assigned missions, and officially established a payroll for all their employed exorcists. The higher-ups were in charge of the schools and by extension all Jujutsu sorcerers.

Sorcerers would be dispatched wherever they found a gathering of cursed spirits. They were dispatched based on how strong they are in comparison to the spirit they face. The jujutsu society would rank spirits--and Sorcerers--like so:

Grade 4 - The weakest; a tire iron is plenty to deal with it.

Grade 3 - Slightly harder than Grade 4; handgun or something of similiar power recommended.

Semi-Grade 2

Grade 2 - An average Jujutsu sorcerer would not come out unscathed.

Semi-Grade 1

Grade 1 - “Even a tank might be insufficient.”

Special Grade 1

Special Grade - “Cluster bombs might work.”

For reasons not yet known to the Jujutsu community, curses and Sorcerers were most commonly found in Japan. While some could crop up in other countries, it was exceedingly rare.

That meant only a handful of Sorcerers were dispatched on rotation to monitor countries outside of Japan.

For example, France.

There were only three Sorcerorors stationed in France and they would handle the curses and Curse Users that appeared in France.

Three Sorcerers.

Who, at best, could handle a Grade 1 spirit.

But on April 13th that year something truly horrific happened.

A curse that had simultaneously slaughtered thousands of civilians within minutes of being born. Its mere presence could be felt by the Sorcerors not only in France, but in the surrounding countries across Europe.

It was only felt for five minutes, and then it vanished.

And so while the majority of the world was in a panicked frenzy over the mysterious massacre, the Jujutsu world was in a different kind of panic.

For a spirit that went beyond their measurement system had just been born… and they had no way of dealing with it.

(Lilly - April 13th, 2000)

Again.

Lilly stared in grim resignation at the hanging corpse. The woman didn’t even reach her thirties before throwing in the towel. The body swayed side by side, still warm. Still leaking. The woman hadn’t hung herself from far up enough to snap her neck, so she strangled slowly and painfully.

Dumbass, Lilly thought, finding it hard to scrounge up sympathy for the woman.

Woman could have saved herself the painful death if she just chugged sleeping pills with wine.

But people that desperate to flee reality rarely thought that rationally.

“Geh,” Lilly gasped, clutching at her head as another burst of pain shot through her. She was blinded, her vision going completely white at the influx of memories.

She fell to her knees, struggling to breathe from the intense pain. Her body quaked and trembled, unable to cope with the weight of her soul.

Too many memories. Too many lives. Too many deaths.

If she could forget then the body would carry on without needing her entire soul to be there. She could rest a bit more. She could sleep in death’s kind arms--

But, no.

Again.

She woke up again in a body too small and immature to handle the weight of her memories.

Lilly was what many referred to as an old soul.

It was not that her soul was older than the others around her, more so that her soul tended to retain the memories and knowledge of her previous lives.

Whereas death granted most souls a clean slate before their next life, Lilly was not permitted the same courtesy.

She was, mockingly, a Blessed being.

The pain subsided, the small body quivering.

How old am I now? Lilly wondered. Which world is this? Where--?

Panting, the old soul glanced around the house. Most of it looked like an average house on Earth from the early 2000s or late 1900s. None of it was in disarray so probably not apocalyptic.

Not completely normal though, Lilly thought, feeling how sensitive her spiritual energy was in her current body.

If was born in a powerless world, she wouldn’t have woken up. The fact that she woke up meant there was something about that world that made it special.

Maybe a Hero will be born here? Will a Story happen?

Her head throbbed again, her soul and energy aching from the strain of being awoken in a premature body. Lilly stumbled around the house, every so often feeling another spike of her insides burning.

It was not too dissimilar to swallowing lava. On top of the pain, she was nauseous, unbearably hot, and had significant difficulty in trying to focus on what was in front of her. Every step was a milestone. Her soul yearned to burst out of the fragile body, to preemptively rejoin death.

Not yet. I woke up here for a reason. There’s always a reason, Lilly thought. She fumbled around the house, searching for anything that could give her a better idea of where she was.

No computer. I think I see a landline phone, though, Lilly thought.

When she went to use it, however, only silence could be heard. She frowned, then hesitantly moved to flick on the lights.

Nothing happened.

Uwa… did I accidentally fry the tech trying to contain my energy? Lilly wanted to groan.

She hated being reborn in tech-sensitive worlds. If her spiritual energy was too overwhelmign for the technology, it became such a hassle. It meant she had to consciously filter, repress, and refine her energy any time she had to use it when around technology.

Whatever.

Time to find a neighbor then, she thought.

Stepping outside the house, Lilly found a bizarre scene. There was a mailman who collapsed right at the door, and judging from how still he was, she could tell he wasn’t breathing.

Lilly stared at the dead body. She looked up and found several crashed cards and more dead bodies.

Oh.

“Oops,” she said.

March 8, 2001

Lilly was minding her own business the following day. Yuuta was swaddled and placed in a baby wrap carrier that Lilly tied around herself. She kept his head well supported, it rested in the crook of her neck.

It had been a while since she had repeatedly cast so many illusionary and compulsion spells. She knew it couldn’t be helped--she was in the body of a seven-year old, of course the adults wouldn’t take her too seriously.

She had finished authenticating his birth certificate, adoption papers, and was on her way to handle funeral arrangements for his mother. Lilly had already made a few tentative and brief ventures into the world to steal (shamelessly) steal money so she had cash on hand in case the woman hadn’t made prior plans for herself--which guessing by how optimistic she was, Lilly assumed the answer was no.

Yuuta was an easy crier, which made what would have been a thirty-minute errand into a two-hour errand since a lot of that time was spent soothing the infant.

Lilly could feel he had more spiritual energy inside him than some of the adults she had previously encountered, but it was still growing.

If her hunch was correct and he was a protagonist--or antagonist--then she figured his energy would only continue to grow.

Maybe I should start feeding him some of mine? Lilly pondered. If she doubled or tripled the raw power of someone important, what would Fate do? Would it increase the power levels of everyone else to match, or would it give away under her pressure?

She didn’t know the story--if there was one in that world--so she had no way of knowing what to anticipate. She could only catch the common signs and draw her own predictions from her past experiences.

Let’s find out, Lilly thought.

Daiki Choki was had recently completed his mission to vanquish an A-Grade Curse at a nearby graveyard. It had gone much smoother than he anticipated, and the Jujutsu Sorcerer was looking forward to his pay.

As he was leaving the graveyard, however, he felt something… odd.

It was indescribable. A sensation he had never encountered.

Similar… very similar… to encountering a powerful Curse, but…

It was a Curse, yet it was not.

It clearly had a presence. He felt an uncomfortable heat wash over him, as if the thing was projecting an aura of fire, but it was not malicious. Curses were filled with malevolent bloodlust, but what he felt lacked that intensity.

It was still dangerous, that heat.

Perhaps not directly evil, but…

If he had to put it into words, it was as if he had stumbled across a forest fire. The fire held no ill-will, but it was still a dangerous force that if left unchecked would devour the entire forest.

Daiki did not feel that it was especially powerful, however, so he made his way over to it.

To his surprise, it took the form of a small girl holding something in a budle of cloth. She was entering the funeral parlor.

Daiki frowned. Curses had never looked human before.

Suppose there’s always a chance it’s possessing her corpse, Daiki thought. He may not have encountered that specific scenario before, but he didn’t see a reason why it couldn’t happen.

Curses weren’t human, but they were tricky by nature.

Daiki lingered outside the mortician’s office, wondering if he would need to follow after the curse. He hated fighting near civilians, but--

The Curse left, as if sensing something was wrong.

But that’s silly, thought Daiki.

It headed straight past the building, making its way to the graves behind. Daiki followed behind it, slowly pulling his gun.

The Curse stopped, turning around to face Daiki. Its eyes were a vibrant red.

“Why are you focusing on me?” it asked.

Oddly articulate for a curse, the Sorcerer thought, raising his gun and taking aim. He smirked. “Don’t worry about it, Curse.”

“Curse? What--?”

He fired, and then his whole world tilted upside down. He hadn’t even felt it happening, let alone seen it, but somehow his head had been chopped off his body the moment he pulled the trigger. The Curse, who had been several steps ahead of him, was suddenly crushing his gun in her bare hand, scowling at him.

“If I had let that gone off, you woulda woken him,” she scolded the decapitated head. “Rude.”

#jujutsu

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starlight-thoughts-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Handle With Care

Summary: For a moment, he considered walking back out of the room, give her the privacy she clearly desired, but she wasn't stopping, so he kept watching. She kept dancing to the delicate music and he sank to the floor in front of her, his legs crossed over themselves, a captive audience. Her lips quirked up into a smile, and as the song came to an end, she bowed in his direction.

TW: Nothing, so far as I’m aware. Let me know if you disagree.

Notes: This is part me being poetic and pretentious and part me being unable to get the image of Natasha dancing for Tony out of my head. I just, their relationship in the MCU is one I find fascinating. The "I should not care about you, but I can't help it" on both ends of that is something I can't help but play around with, and I've been toying with this fic for months and I'm not entirely happy with it, but I have it written so here. Cross-posted on AO3.

Human beings like to tell themselves such pretty lies. Things will get better. Everything happens for a reason. Love always wins. We tell ourselves stories where the good guys win and the bad guys get put away behind bars because we can't cope with the concept that sometimes, life just doesn't care. Tony Stark was born into a world that would always know his name, though not for the reasons he'd wish they would. Such careful manipulation of the facts made sure that no one would ever think that the man who was known as the Merchant of Death was so full of life and energy he was drowning in it. He poured all his passion into things he'd never publicize but they were his children; they were made of metal and code, but they were real and he loved them enough to hide them away from prying eyes. Act like you don't care about anything or anyone long enough and eventually, people stop caring about you.

Tony Stark was born a disappointment, and he learned early on that he'd be allowed more freedom if he didn't even try to change their minds. So he wore a mask made of recklessness and failure and watched as the world forgot that he was brilliant. The problem with masks is that some people will see them and decide it's far more interesting to see what they're hiding.

James Rhodes watched as the boy who was way too young to be sitting in the college lab twisted lines of code into a simple, but charming, personality like it was magic, then build it a body, sketching designs for the robotic arm over the blueprints his father wanted him to look over, just to see if his son had a mind for weapons as he did. James watched as Tony fixed all the issues his father's designs had, then go back to creating life like it was nothing special. James watched as his best friend was told his parents were dead and he watched as Tony shut himself off from the world and created JARVIS. It would occur to him later that AI was the first bit of armor Tony built.

Virginia Potts was the most terrifyingly competent person Tony had ever had the pleasure of being yelled at by. He had stumbled into her -- literally -- one night while leaving the R&D offices and she had given him hell for it, all while towering over him in her high heels, not a hair out of place. Her fury mixed with her composure startled a genuine laugh out of him. He promoted her on the spot. He liked the way she treated him as human, instead of a toy or a trophy. Things were easier with her at his side. The world didn't seem as overwhelming when she was there to take care of the practical things. She didn't judge him for having his head in the clouds, she just tied a string around his wrist and guided him like a balloon while she stayed firmly on the ground. It had taken him much too long to realize that there wasn't enough money in the world to keep someone with him, so her continued presence in his life had to be because she genuinely cared, and that was when he gave her the codes to his personal lab. He found her, his Pepper, asleep on the couch more than once, hair loose, feet curled up under a blanket she had brought down because she liked to watch him work.

One kidnapping and betrayal later, Tony began to distrust everything and anyone connected to his father. The only ones who actually seemed to care about him were the ones he chose himself.

Steve Rogers was everything everyone had wanted Tony to be and having all that rush back into his head out of nowhere put him on the defensive. He knew Pepper would tell him that none of that was Steve's fault and could he please get his head out of his head now? But he couldn't. This was the man that his father had idolized and searched for until the day he died. This was the man that Howard had poured all his time and energy into instead of his son, and while Tony knew, and he did know, that Rogers had no part of that, Tony was tired of the past coming to haunt him. Realistically, anyone his father had liked was bad news for him and there was no one, save Aunt Peggy, that Howard Stark liked more than Steve Rogers.

They clashed and shattered against each other, the whole world watching as Tony Stark and Steve Rogers fell into synchronization, the pieces of shared history falling to the wayside in the light of victory.

Natasha was difficult for Tony to process. She was the only person he'd ever met who wore as many masks as he did, and he tried desperately to not think about the fact that she was so deadly because of it. People underestimated her, didn't see how clever her eyes were, didn't see how she'd change everything about herself to fit the image they wanted to see. He saw how it wore her down. He could relate, and she knew it. It was strange, the art of being seen as what other people wanted shared between a man who was always in the spotlight and a woman who learned to blend into the background.

He liked to watch her dance. It wasn't that it made him forget that she was lethal -- quite the opposite, actually -- but more that she looked more human while she did. It was almost like whatever it was that allowed her to drift seamlessly between personalities melted away and left just a woman who loved to dance behind. She was talented and beautiful because of course, she was, but it was how carefree and unguarded she was as she twirled around that caught -- and held -- his attention. The funny thing is, he almost didn't have this, he almost let it slip through his fingers. The shooting range was originally going to be both Clint and Natasha's "welcome to the dysfunctional family" present, but the archer had a different idea.

"You want her happy, Stark, you give her a place to dance," Clint had said in such a no-nonsense tone that he almost thought that he was playing a prank on him, and if he followed through, she'd kill him without mercy. But the glint in Clint's eyes told him to take a chance, and so he lined one wall of the gym with mirrors and had a barre installed, much to the confusion of the builders. When he took all of them around the tower, the way her fingers trailed along the metal was reverent. She and Clint shared a look, he nodded, and suddenly Tony's arms were full of a redhead who could kill in an instant if she wanted.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear. He's still not sure what platitudes he said, but a second later, she was across the room, no hint of the raw emotion she had just displayed on her face. And that was that.

He hadn't expected to ever see her actually use the space he had carved out for her, as it was well known that she was in the gym late at night when the more sensible members of their team had long since gone to sleep or pretended to. But he was no stranger to aimless insomnia, and had wandered into the gym one night, just walking around, and had been startled out of daydreams by slow music, and it would have been ethereal if not for the haunting melody. The sound of her feet hitting the floor came after and his eyes drifted to her. It was in that moment he had reconsidered the meaning of the word "revealing". He had certainly seen more of her skin than the leotard was showing, but he had never seen more of her. He looked so much like his father that they tended to forget that he was Maria's son as well. He'd been to enough ballet performances to know that while her movements weren't the most technically accurate, that was only because she didn't want them to be. He also knew she was aware of his presence. For a moment, he considered walking back out of the room, give her the privacy she clearly desired, but she wasn't stopping, so he kept watching. She kept dancing to the delicate music and he sank to the floor in front of her, his legs crossed over themselves, a captive audience. Her lips quirked up into a smile, and as the song came to an end, she bowed in his direction.

"You could do that professionally, you know. Drop the whole spy thing and just do that," he told her as she offered him her hand. She shook her head.

"No, I couldn't," she said. He looked her up and down, and smiled sadly.

"No, you couldn't," he agreed, "but you should dance for us, sometimes. Pretty sure that little number you just did would scandalize our dear captain." He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed and laughed. Tony pulled her into him and began a simple waltz in the silence. She fell into step so effortlessly that it almost startled him, but only almost.

"Maybe I'll dance for everyone one day. We'll see. It's not personal, it's just," she sighed, unsure how to finish the sentence.

"It's just too personal," he suggested. She nodded. His hands on her body felt warm and distracting in a way she was not accustomed to. They were not wandering; they stayed exactly where they were supposed to be for the dance, and while his embrace was steady, it was not strict. She could walk away from this moment, and he would let her.

"I don't know how to let people in, Tony. I don't know how to be a person, not really." Her steps never faltered, but her voice wobbled, just a bit.

"One person at a time, one little truth at a time," he said, switching the dance from a formal ballroom to a playful mishmash of whatever he wanted. She grinned and teased him with chaos of her own. She twirled away from him, and as just as he pulled her back to him, he whispered into her ear, "and sometimes, Miss Rushman, you don't let them in at all. They come barging in anyway and you hope and pray they don't break your heart."

#ironwidow #mcu #fanfic #bad ideas #ao3

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gentlejourneytohealthyliving · 3 years

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My battle with Binge Eating disorder, sugar / refined carb addiction, Gender Dysphoria, and mental health

For most of my teenage and adult life, I've been fighting invisible battles. From dealing with depression and body image issues to gender dysphoria, and a buttload of trauma that I couldn't process.

I turned to food to soothe my emotions and as a result, I became addicted to sugar and caffeine. I got headaches, mood swings, withdrawal symptoms when I tried to quit cold turkey. And trying I did many, many times.

The only way I can compare it is when I tried to quit my ADHD/Depression meds cold turkey. Not a fun 2 weeks, I can tell you that.

I also developed an eating disorder, one that I am still battling. I still have ideas about food that are very, very unhealthy and unhelpful.

If I look back and ask myself why? There's a clear answer.

I hated my body. I hate my chest, my hips. Being fat hid them in a way that was easier to cope with. They bullied me a lot for how I looked, because I didn't want to wear bras as a teen, my hair was short, a lot of things, really.

And those things all piled together and gradually made me spiral down into a mindset where being fat was safe to me. Certain things don't stand out when the rest is just as big. It made the gender dysphoria easier to deal with.

Now that I am on hormones and my face is finally my own, I find it becomes easier to deal with other parts of my body as well. Not easy in the slightest. But bearable until I can finally have my surgeries.

In the Netherlands, we have a requirement for gender reassignment surgeries, called BMI requirements. And in order to qualify, I too have to lose weight. Personally, I think it's a load of bull. Other countries have shown that these surgeries, especially top surgery, can be done on heavier people with excellent results and minimal risk. But I have little of a choice.

I do however, have the choice on how I want to lose weight.

I did it through the principles of Mindful/intuitive eating or gentle nutrition, and gentle/intuitive exercise.

And so far, it's going pretty well. I have ups; I have downs. The chest and hip dysphoria are a pain. But I lost 12 lbs (5.8 kg) of the 44lbs (20kg) I need to lose in total.

Right now I'm plateauing a bit, but with a few adjustments and by sticking with my current plan and habits, I think I will manage it.

For now, because minor changes every week have already made a major difference.

I've stopped drinking energy drink

I only drink 1 to 2 cups of coffee a day and I feel content with that

In general, I eat 3 portions of vegetables, 2 portions of fruit a day

I eat a variety of lactose free dairy, nuts, meat, and fish and have vegan and vegetarian days

I allow myself to eat my trigger foods and have stayed binge free for six weeks.

I am fitter and stronger, and am better equipped to handle my emotions.

My thoughts around food, although not perfect, have improved and I no longer demonize certain foods

I battled sugar addiction to a point where I am sitting here, typing this, while 2 bars of chocolate are laying next to me and I do not feel like I need them right now. (whereas before, I would have eaten them regardless.)

I improved my thoughts around food to a point where even a bad day is not the end of the world. I am slowly tackling my all-or-nothing mentality.

I did these things thanks to therapy (trauma therapy and EMDR), social workers (ACT therapy and ADHD guidance), help from my GP (Medication), and a lot of Youtubers and Podcasters who follow HAES principles and intuitive eating principles.

Some of the ones I follow:

Food Psych

Food Thought

Don't salt my game

Abbey Sharp

I am well aware that not everyone has the resources I have. And I am very grateful that I live in a country where all of these things are covered by health insurance. (For the most part) Or available through government programs.

But I think most people can find something in their current habits or diet that they can adapt, even if it is something small. And start there. Every step you make in order to improve your relationship with food and step away from diet mentality, is a step in the right direction.

#intuitive eating #gentle nutrition #gentle exercise #weight loss #personal

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hellitwasyoufirstsergeant · 4 years

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Hi everyone! I’m not really sure why I’m posting this here, I suppose because I’m not ready for people I know ‘irl’ to see this, and this is the only account I have anywhere where none of my irl friends follow it. As to why I’m posting this at all, I’m not so sure either. I suppose largely for myself, in the hope that it will exorcise some demons, and partly for other people, because eating disorders just are not discussed enough and perhaps by posting this I can show someone else that they’re not alone.

There may be mistakes in this and it may not all be 100% coherent, I found it hard to write and I didn’t wish to read it back over.

WARNING: The following post contains discussions of eating disorders and mental health issues. Please do not read if this is a trigger for you, and please not not read if you’re only here to pass judgement

Looking back now, it’s so easy to realise why I felt the way I did, and to see my descent into mental illness. At the time, it was confusing as hell. I wasn’t diagnosed with generalised anxiety disorder and clinical depression until I was 17, although I had been suffering from both for six years already, I just didn’t realise it, because I just didn’t know they existed. I didn’t know there were medical conditions to describe how I felt, perhaps if I did I wouldn’t have felt so alone and so alienated. It wasn’t until last year that I realised I’d suffered from an eating disorder. Before that, I didn’t know that binge eating was an eating disorder.

The words ‘eating disorder’ to me conjured up images of skeletal bodies, of people making themselves sick. I wish that preteen and teen me knew that I was suffering from an actual condition, that other people suffered from too.

I don’t recall specifically the first time I binged on food, but over autumn (fall) of 2011 it became a regular occurrence, a habit. It was my way of coping with the changes in my life - starting a new school, my mum being diagnosed with a clinical illness and an increasingly fractured relationship with my dad - and my feelings of loneliness. I was also self conscious about my body, I was in a more advanced stage of puberty than most of my peers and I was aware of the fact that I was a little overweight. Bingeing became an outlet for feelings that I couldn’t understand, and therefore that I couldn’t process.

It was a process that I repeated regularly for six years. It was like a paradox, the more I looked at myself in the mirror and hated what I saw, the more I binged, the very thing that made me carry on putting on weight. I was overweight, I still am today, but I wish that I could have seen myself the way others saw me - slightly chubby but not the ugly monster I thought myself at the time. I ate my feelings away, it was the only coping mechanism I knew. Even when in some ways my life improved - when I was 14 I finally fell in with a group of friends who were kind and who made me feel accepted - my mental state continued to decline and I continued to eat to cope. I was also feeling confused about my sexuality, something that increased my sense of alienation and otherness. It was often the only thing that got me through the day, the only thing that made life bearable to me.

I never confided the way I felt or my problem with food to anyone during this period. My mum knew that I had issues with food, twice she found hidden stashes in my bedroom. She has been a good parent to me, but I so wish she’d handled it differently. She made me feel ashamed, something that made me more determined to hide my problem and therefore to not confront it. I think perhaps that she would’ve been a lot more understanding had she known the feelings behind the problem, but I didn’t know how to go about telling her.

I can’t remember how old I was exactly when I shoplifted food for the first time, I think around 14. The £10 a week pocket money was no longer enough to fund my problem, even though I always chose the cheapest food so that I could buy as much as possible. I shoplifted semi regularly from the local supermarkets for around 18 months, I still don’t know how I was never caught.

In September 2016, I started sixth form college. It was a fresh start that I so badly needed, my five years at secondary school having been so unhappy. It was hard to begin with, only my oldest friend went to the same college as me and old feelings of loneliness resurfaced. A part of me had hoped that the change of school would allow me to leave my bingeing habit behind, but it wasn’t to be. Even when I settled in and began making friends, I continued bingeing.

New friends at college told me of their mental health issues, and I finally felt understood - there were other people who felt the way I did, other people who wanted to die. These feelings may not be normal, but I’m not alone anymore. Despite feeling accepted properly for the first time in my life, I continued to eat. Perhaps it was the stress of A levels (my fellow Brits know how fucking hard these are), or my mum’s decline in health, or my increasingly worsening relationship with my dad.

In May/June time of 2017, my oldest friend, Imogen, who was one of a few friends now aware of my poor mental state, told me that I should go to the doctor. After a little persuading, I agreed. She came with me, but the appointment achieved nothing. I tried a few more GPs at my local surgery and eventually found one who made me feel listened to, and who was kind and sympathetic. I don’t recall the exact time I was diagnosed (to be honest this period in my life is a bit of a blur), but after some months I was finally diagnosed with GAD and clinical depression. I still continued to stay silent about my problem with food.

Ironically, it was actually the further decline of my mental state that allowed me to break my old habit. My mental health had declined fairly slowly over the past few years, but the decline accelerated over autumn and winter of 2017. I don’t know if there was a trigger behind that, I guess mental health doesn’t need a reason. I didn’t know how to deal with the way I felt, I lashed out and fell out with Imogen, which hit me hard. We didn’t talk at all for three months. Before this period, I had often thought that things would be so much easier if I was dead, but my thoughts had never progressed beyond that. Now, it became more active. I actually wanted to die. I stopped looking when I crossed the road, I stopped looking after my physical health at all. Fears about hurting my mum were the only thing stopping me from taking it further. But, I finally stopped binge eating, so disinterested in life that even the that no longer made me feel better.

My mental state didn’t take a turn for the better, but I grew used to these new feelings and started to process them properly. I got better at pushing them out, but I did eventually decide to tell my parents about my diagnoses. My mum was very supportive, she still is, my dad not so (although I probably should’ve expected that). I made up with Imogen, my behaviour started to normalise. I felt so free from my old bingeing habit, it had only been a few months but it felt like a lifetime ago.

In February 2018, my mum told me that she’d be moving to Yorkshire. She’d been forced by her job to take early retirement due to ill health, she was only 50 at the time, and wanted to live somewhere cheaper so she could save on living costs and pay off her mortgage. I was scared, and considered for a time moving in with my grandparents so that I could stay in a place where I knew people, but eventually decided that I’d move with my mum. Still, despite the biggest change ever to happen in my life, I managed to avoid a return to my binge eating habit. I’m still not sure how. Perhaps now that the habit was broken it no longer had the hold over me that it once did.

And then, around March 2018, my dad gave me £500. To this day I still have no idea why, I guess guilt. But it was so much more money than I’d ever had. The temptation not to spend any of it on food was too great. I decided to treat myself, I’d spend £100 on food and put the rest in my savings.

By the time I finished college at the beginning of June, the entire £500 was gone, at least £450 of it spent on food. I still remember the binge I had the day after me and mum moved out of our old home and in with my grandparents, who we lived with for seven weeks before going to Yorkshire. My mental state declined still further, and I wasted most of those weeks in bed, not having the energy to do anything. I kicked myself later for not using it to spend time with the friends I was leaving behind.

After we moved to Yorkshire in August, I spent two of the worst months of my life. My old feelings of loneliness resurfaced, not helped by the fact that one of my closest friends just stopped talking to me. I seemed to alternate between binge eating, my binges even bigger than they ever had been, and hardly eating at all.

But, eventually, I managed to settle in. I got a job, I made new friends. I didn’t make a conscious decision to stop binge eating again, it just happened. I wasn’t lonely anymore, but my mental state didn’t seem to get any better. But, I had healthier ways of coping and I didn’t need to binge as an outlet for my feelings anymore. In September 2019, I started uni, and I finally felt like my life had a purpose.

Now, I have more and better friends than I ever had. I’m glad I made the move to Yorkshire, where I live now is much nicer where I grew up and if I hadn’t made the move there are so many amazing people I wouldn’t have met. Most of my friends are aware of my mental health issues, although I rarely discuss them in detail.

However, only one of my friends is aware of my eating disorder. I didn’t realise until last year that binge eating was classified as an eating disorder. I’m not quite sure why, but this discovery prompted me to finally confide in my oldest friend, Imogen. She was very supportive and understanding, and I know my other friends would be, but it’s still something where I look back and I’m like ‘woah that actually happened’. Putting it out of my mind as much as possible has been my way of coping with the fact that it did happen. I have been slightly more open online that I have irl about the fact that I had an eating disorder, but this is the first time I have discussed it this in depth with anyone.

I’m going to say now what I wish preteen and teen me had known: you are not alone. Whether you’re suffering from an eating disorder, from mental health issues, or from something else, you are not alone. I can’t say truthfully that I have never regretted confiding in someone, but the majority of the time it has helped me, even in a small way. Please talk to someone if you have an eating disorder, be it a friend, a family member, a GP, a teacher, even me. It is nothing to be ashamed of.

I stopped binge eating as a regular habit at the start of winter 2018. Although I relapsed a couple times last year, it’s been twelve months and counting since my last binge.

#shut up ange #please everyone remember that no matter what you’re going through #you are not alone #find later

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d3caybab3 · 4 years

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Beautiful A Tenya Iida x Chubby Insecure Fem!Reader

A/N// This is my first fic on here! Now this is 100% to cope with my own body image issues, but also I want to be there for anyone else who feels like me. There's 1, not enough Tenya fics out there, and 2, so many fics describe the reader as slim and I want to be more inclusive. I hope you like it!

Summary: You’re spending time with your beloved boyfriend Tenya, you start to unload and vent all of your insecurities onto him. He tells you he loves your body in an..interesting way.

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Warnings: NSFW, smut, virginity taking, body worship, oral, vaginal sex, creampie, fingering, self body shaming, swearing.

You were stressed to say the least, for more reason’s than one. You had a big test coming up that you were NOT prepared for. The other reason however was more of a personal problem. Your boyfriend Tenya Iida, was the smartest, sexiest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. Unfortunately, he was in a different class than you, 3-A. His class was full of beautiful girls with perfect bodies. Of all the girls he could have, he chose you, and it still baffles your mind. In your eyes, your face was painfully average, but that wasn’t your biggest issue. Your body was.

The way the UA uniform hugged your body in all the wrong places, how it displayed all the rolls, and how your thighs spilled over your stockings. All of it made you want to cry. You’ve told Iida about your self hatred before. Since then he's reminded you almost daily about how beautiful he thought you were, sadly, it never really worked. It may have made you feel pretty for a few minutes. Still, you never felt beautiful.

It was approximately 2 days until the big test you were severely unprepared for, which has only been adding onto your crippling stress. Then you remembered your boyfriend loves studying and he’d be willing to help. Considering it was 8:30, everyone should be in their dorms, so the risk of you getting caught. You were in class 3-D so the walk between dorms would be about five minutes. You slip on a pair of flip flops and try your best to quietly sneak out.

The brisk night air hit your legs, as you were wearing too-short pyjama shorts and an over-sized hoodie that happened to be Iida’s. The walk over to the 3-A dorms was short. When you arrived Mina, Momo, and Uraraka were in the lobby talking about lord knows what. You smiled to yourself and you knocked, a moment later Mina came over and opened up the door, greeting you with big smile. “Hey (Y/N)! Here to see your boy toy?”, she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “Of course I am, why else would I be here?", they all chuckled a bit at what you said.

You stayed in the lobby for a bit just catching up with the girls. Since you started dating Iida, you knew everyone in his class, and became acquainted with most of them. You said your goodbye’s to the girls, making your way to the boys’ wing. When you got to Tenya’s dorm you knocked on his door a few times, hoping he wasn’t already sleeping. Thankfully, he answered but he didn’t look amused.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here past curfew!! You know it's against the rules,” Iida exclaimed, doing his signature hand motion. “I’m stressed about a test I have coming up..plus I missed you Tenya..” You sighed and give him a hug, your face landing in his big chest, as he’s much bigger than you. Tenya hesitantly hugs you back, his hands landing at your soft love handles. You smile up at him, feeling him already loosen up. No matter how much he denied it, you made him less authoritarian and more calm.

“Please Ten, help me study?”, you give him big eyes that he can’t help but smile at. “Fine,” he playfully rolled his eyes at you, letting you into his dorm. You pull up another chair at his desk, sitting so close to him that your legs touch.

“So what’s the test over? You know I have flashcards and notes for everything, Princess,” he smiles, pulling out binders and organized index cards. “It’s over geology,” you groan, your head falling into your arms. Iida noticing your stress immediately embraced you. “Studying while over-whelmed won’t get you anywhere princess..if you needed come see me you could have said so..” Iida rubs your back slowly to relax you. You already started to feel better, as you swore his touch could fix anything.

You looked up at him after a moment, his cobalt eyes staring deep into your (e/c) one's. Tenya's large hand ran down the side of your face, his finger running by your jaw and under your chin. He tilted your head up to get a better look at you, “God I'll never get over how beautiful you are,” the tone in his voice somehow sent off a signal in your brain, telling you this wasn't about studying anymore.

Iida leaned down to meet your face, his lips barely hovering over yours. He gave you a look asking for consent, instead of nodding you leaned in and kissed him first. The kiss didn't stay at a simple peck, his hands snaked down to your hips, as your hands found his hair. The kiss was nothing but pure, raw, passion. Before you could even think about it, Tenya's had lifted you up onto his lap, feeling the growing bulge in his pants.

You and Iida had been together for 6 months and you haven't gone past a make out. Because of your insecurities, you were too scared to get intimate, even with him. The thought terrified you, someone seeing you naked. Them turning away after seeing your stretch marks and rolls. The paranoia was too much, thus you just never risking it.

Tonight, however, you could tell was different. Tenya gently slid his tongue into your mouth, his grip on your hips growing tighter, sure to leave bruises there the next morning. His lips found their way down your jaw and onto your neck, causing a soft whine to escape your lips. Before you could even think about being too heavy for him, he stood up, and your first instinct was to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your hands in his hair balled up in a fist and he gently pushed you onto his bed. You beneath his large frame. Tenya pulled away to look at you, his face red and his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. “Princess, if you don't mind I want to go all the way with you tonight,” he said bluntly. “Tenya..I-i don't want you to leave me once you see-”, you looked down at yourself. Seeing your thighs pooling on the bed, or how you could see the print of your stomach in your tight cotton shorts.

“Princess you know how I feel about you saying those things about yourself..” his eyes stared deep into yours, you could tell how upset he was. “But I'm scared..” you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. “Scared about what love?”, he asks, you could hear the sorrow in his voice. He hated when you talked down about yourself, it made Iida want to cry.

“Tenya, I'm scared that once you see what I look like under these clothes that..that you'll leave me for someone prettier, someone slimmer, someone who doesn't look like me..”, The tears began rolling down your face, with each word you spoke you could see Iida's heart break more. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

“Princess..(Y/N), I've said it once and I'll say it again, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, I WANT to see you happy, I want to make you feel good, I never want to leave you.. you're everything I want and more..I love you, and your beautiful body so much,” The words he spoke nearly made you cry more, his hands cupped your face as he left a soft kiss on your lips. Tenya pulled away, to look at you deeply with his cerulean eyes.

You smiled at the way he looked at you, his eyes full of love and adoration. You grabbed his hair and pulled his head down back into the kiss, his tongue finding itself back into your mouth to explore. His hands running up and down your sides. The simple gesture sparked something within you, that you never felt before. You thought for a second and came to the conclusion it had to be lust.

You pulled from the kiss to look at him, “Is something wrong princess?”

“No, it's perfect.. everything is perfect,” you smiled up at him, your legs finding his waist once more.

“Well that's good I want you comfor-” , you cut him off.

“Tenya?”

“Yes princess?”, he asked, slightly scared because you interrupted him.

“I want you tonight, all of you..please,” You were almost desperate, as you felt wetness pool between your legs. “Of course princess..”, a smirk washed across Iida's face as he slowly kissed down your neck, leaving faint marks on your supple skin.

You mewled at the sensation, grinding up on his bulge to gain friction. Iida simply groaned in response, tugging at the bottom of your sweatshirt, as a way of asking to remove it. You nodded desperately in response, just wanting him to fill you already.

You felt goosebumps on your stomach and chest as the fabric was removed. “God you're so much more beautiful than I imagined princess..”, he practically groaned at the sight. You weren't a perfect hourglass shape, and it only turned Iida on more.

A blush washed across your face as he started kissing your breasts. Leaving hickies on the fleshy mounds. Iida unclasped your bra, biting his lip at the sight of you sprawled out for him. He lowered his head and began sucking and toying with your nipples, giving them equal amounts of attention.

Tenya pulled away from your breasts, making his way down your soft stomach to between your legs. Making sure to leave marks on your thighs and stomach. He pressed his thumb onto your clit through your panties, smirking at how your winced. “Oh princess.. you're absolutely drenched and I barely touched you,” Iida placed his hands on the band of your black lace, not hesitating to rip them off you, literally.

“Tenya! Why would you do that!” you pouted, as those were a good pair. “I'll buy you new ones..” he muttered, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt squeezing around nothing. “God princess..you made me wait for this..I wonder how good you'll taste,” Iida licked up your slit, making you push against his face, his glasses now on his forehead.

Tenya began to lap at your puffy clit, occasionally sucking it. His fingers were dancing at your entrance, waiting for the right moment to push one in. “Ugh Tenya please!!” you whined, balling his midnight hair into your fists. You didn't have to tell him twice, you felt one of his meaty fingers enter your tight pussy. He moaned at the way you clenched around his digit, he started to thrust his finger at the same pace he was licking your bundle of nerves.

Soon you felt a second finger inside you, the knot in your stomach growing tighter by the second. Tenya's fingers went faster inside you, finding their way to that special spot. Completely driving you over the edge. “Tenya!”, you screamed loud enough for everyone to hear, your grip on his hair impossible. Your orgasm making your clit quiver in his mouth, he continued slowly licking it through your orgasm.

Iida pulled away, his face red and his glasses fogged. “You did so good princess, I can't wait to fuck you,” he pulled off his shirt and you couldn't help but whimper at his large, muscular build over you. “Like what you see princess?”, he laughed lowly as he placed a kiss on your lips, tasting yourself in the process.

“Mm yes.. you're so handsome Tenya..”, you sat up to caress his gorgeous body. There's no denying he looks like he was sculpted by the Gods. Your hands ran up and down his large biceps, as well as his perfectly toned abs. You could see you touching him was only making him more needy, the bulge in his pants was loud and proud.

Before you had the chance to pull away yourself, Iida had shoved you back down onto the bed his sweats down at his ankles. “Don't test me princess..I may not be so gentle next time,” he growled, his kiss rough and dominating. You had reached down to pull off his boxers, your eyes widening at his length.

Your body ached at the sight, as you had a feeling you'd be limping tomorrow. Iida was a big guy, height and muscle wise, so you didn't know what you were expecting but it wasn't that. His cock was long, very thick, and slightly curved upwards.

“Tenya I-” your mouth was agape, to say you weren't a bit scared would have been a lie. “Is there an issue princess? We can stop if you want,” classic Iida, always so considerate. “No no Ten.. you're just big, very, very big,” you gulped at the sight of his member once more. “Oh, well I hope that's not a problem,” he grinned, his tip teasing your entrance. ”N-no..” you whined, wanting to be filled already.

“Well princess..if anything hurts or I'm too rough please do not hesitate to tell me," you nodded quickly in response, having enough of the talk. Seconds later you felt his cock pressing into your tight walls, hissing at how it hurt so good.

Iida continued pushing in at an agonizingly slow pace, taking every nerve in his body to not just rail you. “Fuck.. you're so tight..is everything about you just perfect?” he muttered, finally his tip pressing up against your womb. He then slowly pulled out, then quicky pushed back in, his head hitting the spongy spot inside you.

Your eyes widened in shock, moaning in pure bliss. Iida continued thrusting in and out of you, his tip hitting that spot nearly every time. It made your toes curl and tears come to your eyes because it felt so good. “Shit.. Tenya please do not stop,” you pushed down against his length, making him go deeper, which felt impossible.

Iida wasn't particularly vocal, as he wanted to hear your sweet cries. But every now and then he'd grunt, or groan. “God you're so good baby, I don't think I'll be able to get enough of your sweet cunt after this,” his thrusts started to become less rhythmic, and he began to speed up.

It took everything for him to not cum on the spot, but he wanted you to orgasm before him. You were a mess, you were shaking under him as your core got that familiar tightness once more. “Mm Tenya keep going I'm so close!”, your nails were digging into his back, leaving scratches, and crescent shaped marks behind.

Iida's hang moved between you two, his palm rubbing your oversensitive clit. Which made you see stars, moaning his name, which made him only go faster. He hit the spot in you once more before your orgasm hit you like a bus. The overwhelming pleasure made your thoughts cloudy as you were moaning nonsensical things.

Iida continued to thrust into you slowly through your orgasm, your walls clenching around him, making him paint your insides white. “God-..nngh Princess you're so good..so good.. you're mine understand? No one gets to make you feel this good besides me," his breath was heavy, as he pushed his seed into you.

Tenya caught his breath before collapsing at your side, both you and him sweating. “Princess you're beautiful okay? Don't forget that..” he kissed you softly, embracing you in his arms. You simply nodded, as you were not too far away from passing out.

For the first time in a long time you truly felt beautiful and comfortable in your own skin, this was only a small step but hopefully many more nights like this will happen. You fell asleep in Iida's arms with a content smile, so thankful you met him.

#anime #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero imagines #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #tenya lida #my hero academia iida #mha iida #iida tenya #iida smut #iida fanfiction #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero au

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guardianofjunmyeon · 4 years

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Finding Atlantis (part 6)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description: 20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt began.

A/N: I meant to update last week but my VPN wasn’t working! I couldn’t access tumblr bc it’s blocked here in china but i finally got it fixed lol. This one is long! WARNING(s): Smut + Character Death (??)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

After hours of discussion and blindly heading southeast, you all were finally able to somewhat crack the code of the rhyme and the map.

“Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. That’s clearly about the Atlantis return song. It’s the most important part of all of this. If we don’t get a better handle of when it appears and when it doesn’t we won’t get through the rest of the trails.”

“Trials?”

“Yes, there are three different trials masked in the lyrics of the song. The way back isn’t easy. If you leave Atlantis, you have to prove that you truly want to return,” Yeri replies.

You squint at the map now covered in writing.

“She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue,” Sehun reads. “It’s about a storm. A very big one by the sound of it.” He points to an area of the map with nothing but water. “You see this area? It’s known for its unruly currents and unnatural weather patterns. It ranges from snow to thunderstorms large enough to wipe out entire islands.”

Junmyeon grazes his fingers over the map, passing the spot Sehun mentioned and further southeast. “Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through…if we continue beyond the location of the storm we’ll be set to approach Isla de Sirena within a week.”

“Shit,” Baekhyun murmurs.

Yeri looks on in confusion. “Why shit?”

“Isla de Sirena is an island known for luring ships underwater. They crash ships among the rocks with song. They appear as the most beautiful creature that you can imagine; whatever you subconsciously find the most alluring. I don’t know how they do it. Different people can look at the same one and see different things; they trick you that way. Mermaids…sirens, whatever you want to call them. Freaky little bitches.”

“Baekhyun,” Junmyeon admonishes.

“What? They are!”

“So we’ve got to face…beautiful singing women? Oh no the horror,” you gasp jokingly.

Baekhyun pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are so horny, and so stupid all the fucking time.”

“You’re one to fucking talk-”

“Children!” Junmyeon scolds. “Can we please hold off on the flirting until this is over?”

“We aren’t flirting-”

“Anyway!” You and Baekhyun close your mouths in embarrassment. “We’ve gone near Isla de Sirena, once,” Sehun adds grimly, eyebrows pitching angrily. “If you’re able to ignore their voices then you can see them for they are. They’re the ugliest creatures I’ve ever seen in my life.” He shivers.

“So what’s the final trial?” Baekhyun asks, back to contributing to the conversation and not being a pain in your ass.

“She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began…” Yeri reads. A sigh. “We aren’t completely sure. It’s something about a rebirth?”

You scratch your chin.

“Maybe it’s about being drowned.”

Everyone turns their eyes to you.

“What?” you ask; your wide eyes look back at everyone staring at you as if you said something crazy. You point to the map in the general area where you think you all may end up. “There’s no land anywhere near here, and the city is underwater. Born from water, taken away from water, and then reclaimed by the water. If you leave, you must be drowned and reborn into an Atlantian again right? Why else would you forget your memories and connection to the sea the longer you’re away?”

“You are reborn in the place where life began…” Baekhyun mumbles. “You might be right. The final trial is a drowning of some kind. There’s a reason only Atlantian’s are the only people who can reach the city.” Baekhyun smacks you on the shoulder. “You’re not completely useless!”

You frown and hold your shoulder.

Bastard.

~~~

Candles cover the deck of the ship as the sun sets on the horizon. You watch somberly as each member of your crew places an object that reminds them of Taemin, of Amber, of Kun, and of Jaehyun in each of the four caskets meant to sail them to the other side.

Their bodies are wrapped in cloth to save everyone the trauma of facing their decomposing faces. Flowers, candies, articles of clothes surround each body with the things that made them who they were in life.

And will hopefully comfort them in the land of death.

Your most artistically inclined deckhand, Ten, places a portrait of each of them in their respective boat. An image to match the body.

“Jaehyun was always smiling; he worked hard as a gunner. He’d hoped one day to be master gunner of the ship.” Mark stands over the casket. “He uh, he never said much but he had the most imaginative mind of any person I ever met,” he says with a sad smile. “When the cannon backfired and killed him, it was quick, so at least he didn’t suffer for long. Farewell friend. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Luna takes over where Mark left off, standing in front of Amber’s casket. “I’ve known Amber since we were kids. She was a strange one,” she laughs. “She was very head strong and opinionated even when she was wrong. We both knew that working in the artillery was going to be rough, that it would be dangerous, but I know that she loved this job more than anything. She had a family with us, and she died where she would have wanted, I think.” Tears fill her eyes as she sits back down in the circle of crewmen.

“Kun…was like an older brother to me. He would tell me that I was getting on his nerves, but he would always take care of me…uh…take care of all of us in the best way he could. Every meal he served, every wound he healed, was done with care. Unfortunately, sickness isn’t as kind. He tended to Taemin with his last breath, tried to heal with all he had until he had nothing else to give. I’m going to miss him and his cheesy magic tricks.” Ten takes in a deep breath to keep his voice from wavering. “I hope he’s taken care of with as much love as he gave us.”

You can hear people holding back their tears. Sniffles and soft sobs escaping into the air every few seconds.

This time you stand as the representative to send off Taemin. You avoid everyone’s eyes and focus your gaze on his wrapped body and the trinkets around him. “Taemin was one of my earliest crewmen. I may have owned the ship, but Taemin was the one who knew best how she moved. He piloted with a grace and confidence I have still yet to achieve. I don’t have a single doubt that he’ll be able to guide himself to the other side without issue. He had a natural skill for movement.” You focus on an object nestled snuggly at his side. “I just hope he doesn't lose any of the things we’re sending with him the way he always loses his money pouches.” You manage a smile.

A couple of people chuckle softly, sadly.

“As Captain of the Storm Chaser, I release the four of you from duty.” You raise your gun in the air. “I couldn’t have asked for braver, hardworking, and loyal men.” You fire a single shot into the air.

It rings through the night.

Everyone stands, begins to close the wooden coffins, and Junmyeon soaks them in gunpowder and oil.

You watch the coffins get lowered into the water one by one. As they begin to float away, you, Mark, Luna, and Ten line up along the edge of the ship.

“Ready,” you all cock your guns. “Aim.”

“Fire.”

The coffins alight with flames. Yixing lights a single firework and it shoots into the air and covers the sky in bright yellow sparks.

May these lights guide them on their future paths.

No one moves until the coffins are far out of sight, their flames no longer visible. Until nothing but darkness rests in the distance. With heavy eyes, and heavier hearts, you all pull away from the railing.

Those who were close to the ones sent away cry openly and you allow everyone the rest of the night to rest and mourn as they see fit. Crying, shaking, screaming.

People cope in different ways.

As everyone disperses below deck you see Yixing rubbing Jongin’s back as the two of them cry clinging tightly to the other.

You know that Yixing grew up with Taemin. Yixing had been the one to recommend him for the crew because of their shared history. Knowing now that Yixing knew Jongin at the same time, you realize that Jongin must have known Taemin closely as well.

Leaving them to console one another, you walk away.

The stories of their deaths, of their lives, makes your heart a bit less heavy. Knowing that they died doing what they wanted, and not because life was stolen from them in situations counter to their personality eases a bit of the pain.

Minutely.

It still hurts, but the anger is no longer there. Just sadness.

This is the life of pirates after all.

Junmyeon has hidden himself away somewhere on the ship, as he always does when he wants to cry without being found, so you make your way towards the food storage for a drink. You need it after today.

People cope in different ways.

The stairs creak as you descend. One of the lanterns is already on, bright near the liquor storage. It shouldn’t surprise you. You wouldn’t be the only person who wants to drink to numb a bit of the pain.

What does surprise you is who you find hunched over with his face in his hands.

“Baekhyun?”

His head lifts and you immediately take notice of the red in his visible eye and face in the dim lighting. He seems alarmed to have been caught. He looks away in shame.

You sit down in front of him.

The bottle of whiskey at his side is half empty; you reach for it and take a sip.

For your men.

Silence shrouds you both.

You feel the need to speak. To clear the air. Whether you are doing it for him or for yourself you aren’t sure. “No one blames you, you know,” you say so softly that it almost blends into the silence. You hope he doesn’t hear.

But of course he does.

He looks over with anger. “I never said it was my fault.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re down here drinking alone after a funeral. This screams ‘this is all my fault’ you emo fucker.”

He snatches the bottle from your hands.

“Look, okay. No one thinks it’s your fault. You heard the stories. Yeah, you guys shot my ship, but their deaths weren’t directly a result of that. Things went wrong; I will accept that it was just a shot to immobilize us. If any of us thought you a murderer, in this case, we would have hung you by your neck long ago.” You forcefully grab the bottle back with a frown. “There’s plenty of other shit for you to feel guilty over. Like the time you shot me…or stabbed me…or left me on that island for dead.”

“I swear to the Gods-”

“The point is…this one isn’t on you. You don’t need to carry this guilt. Not this time.” You take a quick drink. “If however,” you point your finger at him menacingly, “this was on purpose, then I take all that back and I will kill you right fucking here I swear to the Gods.”

The bottle is taken back. “It wasn’t,” he admits, softly, angry. A swig. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he says again tiredly.

His honesty takes you by surprise. Baekhyun has killed just as many people as you have in your life. If he had tried to kill them, well that would be expected. But for him to be this affected by the accidental deaths? That’s surprising.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” he asks.

“Do you really think you’re the only person on this ship who hides down here drinking? You’re talking to the master!” you boast. “And it’s my ship you ungrateful wrench.” You finish off what’s left of the whiskey and reach for a bottle of golden rum tucked securely on a shelf. Uncorking it with your teeth, you hold it in the air between you. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun!”

It burns like hell itself going down.

You hold it out for Baekhyun with an expectant eyebrow raise. You wait.

He grabs it gently. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun,” he repeats in a murmur. He makes a noise of pain as the alcohol burns its way down his throat. “What the fuck is this?”

You shiver as the alcohol settles uncomfortably in your stomach. “It's the bad rum I think.” You cough violently. “Oh fuck I think I’m going to die,” you say clutching your stomach.

His wild laugh echoes in the dark space. A bit of the gloom lifts.

You let your hands fall from your stomach while you take in the relaxed happiness on his candlelit face. His eye crinkled in a crescent, shining with mirth. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh like that since the first time you met him.

He’s pretty. You’d have to be stupid not to admit it. From his soft and shiny hair, to his cheeks that bunch up when he smiles. From his big dumb ears to all of the little moles that dot his body.

The bottle goes back up to his ridiculously pink lips and he laughs as it hurts his throat just as bad as the first sip.

All it takes is a second of thoughtless, drunken courage for you to lean forward and quickly press your lips against his, cutting off his giggles.

When you pull pack, the happiness on his face has made way for shock and then once more to nothing.

“Don’t kiss me,” he says tonelessly. His voice is serious, but you see the spark of challenge in his eye.

Ignoring the part of you that always tells you that jumping headfirst into him is a bad idea, you lean in again, slower. You brace your hands on his thighs and feel them tense beneath your palms. He stares at your lips and you watch enrapt as his tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip.

You can feel your skin vibrating from the proximity to him, and you freeze; a breath away from meeting skin with skin. Your eyes glance up to meet his and you can see the want, the restlessness, and something else you can’t quite place in the dark.

As if waiting any longer would be torturous, he leans forward impatiently to press his lips against yours. The bottle of rum falls to the ground and spills onto the floorboards of the storage room.

You don’t care.

You push harder; open your mouth to let his tongue slide against yours in a way that sends tingles through every nerve in your body. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the touch of sadness, but something feels different about this time.

You crawl onto his lap, driven purely by instinct and press every inch of your body against his. Heat seeps through your clothes and you pant longingly as he pulls you closer by your neck, his other hand grabbing you roughly by your ass. A wanton moan escapes your mouth and he pulls you closer, rougher. Breaths puff into each other’s mouths as you messily connect your lips over and over again. It’s uncoordinated. It’s wet. It’s exactly what you need.

You thread your fingers in his hair and yank his head back; diving to lick and suck along the column of his neck, to the sensitive spot behind his ear that you know drives him crazy. His grip on your body tightens as he releases a shaky groan and rolls his hips up against yours. Anticipation thrums through your body. To every noise, to every touch your body responds in earnest.

This is nothing but a distraction. For you. For the both of you, you don’t care. Neither of you have to think as clothes are removed. The sadness can be ignored as you claw against his skin and coax his tongue into your mouth. It’s all movement. All feeling. All lust.

People cope in different ways.

It always happens like this. You argue. You fight. You threaten each other. You fuck until you’re both exhausted and too tired to care about the years of hatred between you. For these few moments all you are, are bodies. Bodies moving in tandem, kissing the right places, touching the right spots, connecting at the right angle. Like this things are easy, wordless.

You each just understand how the other works.

Every movement is matched in urgency, in desperation. Touch for touch. Kiss for kiss. Sound for sound. Push for pull. Gasps, moans, whimpers are muted as best you can in the quiet of the storage. You don’t realize that you’re subconsciously avoiding aggravating the stitches that lie there, still fresh, in his side as your hands leave burning paths along his skin.

Just for now, you can allow yourselves to feel that maybe you don’t hate each other as much as you let on.

~~~

“Get your own fucking telescope!”

“Where am I going to get one? We’re in the middle of the god forsaken ocean; do you expect me to pull it out of my ass?”

“You should have brought yours with you if you wanted to use one so bad! That doesn’t give you permission to just take my shit whenever you feel like it. You aren’t Captain here.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“I’ll do worse than that. Seulgi, get me my pistol.”

“Captain I don’t think-”

“You think you’re going to shoot me? Chanyeol where’s my gun?!”

“I’m gonna shoot you right in your last fucking working eye you dirty fucking son of a-”

A hand covers your mouth before you can finish your curse. “Baekhyun, you’re needed in the kitchen. Kyungsoo is asking for you.” You and Baekhyun share one last deadly glare before he stalks off and you’re released.

“What the hell Minseok?” You turn on your gunner, anger from your argument with Baekhyun being projected instead onto him. It has to go somewhere.

He crosses his arms over his chest, unbothered.

“So you’re in love with him right? That's why you’re acting like this?”

Your eyes bulge out of your skull. “I’m sorry, what did you just ask me?”

He sighs, grabs you by your arm and drags you all the way to the infirmary. You’re forced to sit down stupefied as Minseok stares at you expectantly. “The two of you are exhausting to watch. If you weren’t two of our most capable men we would have tied you both up and put you in the brig until we found Atlantis days ago,” he says evenly.

You scoff, mouth agape.

“I would tell you to fuck and move on, but seeing as that seems to be what triggers a fresh round of arguments, I’m going to ask that you two refrain from ever having sex on the ship again in the future.”

You splutter embarrassed. Your skin heats at having been called out so boldly. “W-what?! How- Wh- How’d you find out?”

“Any time the two of you have sex, you spend the next month or so telling all of us how much you hate him, how you’re going to kill him, blah blah blah. After a while you stop being as vocal about it, but then we make port, usually at Arae, and he happens to be there, then BAM we're back where we started. You’re obsessed with each other.”

You flush. “We are not,” you try to deny. His face is unimpressed. “I don't know where you got the idea that either of us feel anything but pure hatred for the other. Okay yeah, we’ve had sex a couple of times. So what? It doesn’t mean anything. I’ve had sex with half of Arae.” You cross your arms defiantly.

“As soon as this is all over, we’ll part ways...in 6 months we’ll go to Arae for a bit, as we always do, you’ll have ‘angry hate sex’ yet again and then spend the next month being pissy over his existence. No one who genuinely hates someone spends so much time a) around them willingly and b) obsessing over them when they aren’t around,” Minseok says matter-of-factly. “I think you should both admit you’re in love with each other so we can all move on.”

“Minseok!”

“I agree,” Jongin’s head pops up from behind the singular bed in the room.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, heat again filling your cheeks at the extra witness to this interrogation.

“I work here?”

“I mean hiding behind the bed!”

“Oh…I uh tripped and then the door opened and you guys started talking and I was too afraid to get up and interrupt,” he says quickly.

You squint in judgment.

“This whole…” Minseok waves his hand around as he searches for the word, “…archenemies thing is getting old, Captain. If you really wanted to kill him, you would have done it already. And I’m sure the same goes for Byun. Right Jongin?” he turns to face the younger.

“Yeah,” Jongin agrees with a shrug.

You can’t believe your ears. “He just…hasn’t done anything worth actually killing him over yet. He’s useful sometimes…for information…” you murmur lamely. The excuse is weak even to you.

“You are both dumb and annoying…and also super transparent. Whenever you injure the other, it’s always in a place that won’t kill or do permanent damage. Don’t act like it’s just been luck that you’ve both managed to miss any kind of serious blow from the other. You’re both deadly fighters, you know how to kill someone if you want them dead.”

“He ditched me in cuffs on that island-”

“You had the key to the cuffs,” Jongin chimes in unhelpfully.

Minseok rolls his eyes at your words. “Yes, and again, in a survivable situation. Was there not food and shit on that island?”

You open and close your mouth pathetically.

“Exactly. It’s not like you’re an incompetent dumbass. You would be able to find your way off even if you hadn’t been found. He didn’t blow the ship to bits like he could have a month ago, you haven’t slit his throat like you could have many months ago. You both dance around injuring each other, making the other’s life difficult, and fucking. You’re in love, please just accept it. I don’t care if you’re into BDSM and blood play or whatever freaky shit gets you guys off, but I would at least appreciate it if you kept it in your bedroom.”

Jongin nods from the back. “I just think it’s obvious,” he adds simply.

“Pff…Psh…Tch…I’m-I am appalled that you would talk to your Captain like this.”

“I know, I know. You could have us hanged, shot, thrown in the ocean, whatever…but the fact of the matter is that you aren’t going to do any of that, and you know that we’re right. Now, I’m going to go make sure Chanyeol hasn’t shot any of my men with any of my valuable pistols, and I’ll leave you to your duties, Captain.” Minseok nods his head with finality and exits the room.

Mutineer…

You glare at Jongin for ganging up on you. He flushes timidly. “I’m uh…gonna go see if Kyungsoo needs any help…Captain.” With a nervous smile he dashes from the room.

This is mutiny…

~~~

The ship sails southeast for days before anything alerts you all of the impeding first trial. The weather is normal, the water is normal, and then all of a sudden, the winds become violent.

“Captain, I think we’re getting close to whatever the first test is…” Yixing says tremulously.

The wind whips around you and the sails of the ship flap violently. There’s no way to tell which way the wind is blowing from as it whips from what feels like every side simultaneously. The ship tilts dangerously to one side.

“Junmyeon…that song telling you anything right about now?” You ask anxiously.

Your first mate looks out on the horizon with worried eyes. “We’re going the right way…” is all he says.

“Helpful,” Yixing murmurs sarcastically.

There is no visible sign of a storm; nothing seems out of the ordinary outside of the unnatural winds. The crew is already reefing your regular sails and raising the storm jib and trysail. If the winds get any stronger, which they will, they’ll catch your regular sails and capsize your ship before the waves even begin to hit.

“Who can man the helm? Who’s the best pilot on board right now?” you ask Yixing.

Yixing looks around a bit panicked. “I don’t know… I don’t know Captain.” The ship lurches to the side.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you scan the ship. Most of the men are working on preparing the proper sails, securing any moving parts, and making sure the wind alone won’t turn the ship on her side. You see Baekhyun working with Wendy on securing lose lines. You haven’t talked to him since your lecture from Minseok all those days ago. “Junmyeon, go check to make sure we have enough ballast in the hold. We’re going to be rocking and we need to pray that we have enough weight to keep us as stable as possible.”

He rushes away; you try to think of what else you can do to prepare. There’s no way to tell how long this storm is going to last, how bad it’s going to be, and you would rather prepare for the worst.

A sea anchor.

“Johnny!” The boatswain is immediately at your side. “Take whoever you need and deploy the sea anchor. We should have one somewhere in the hold. I need you to work fast, but be thorough.”

The ship is going to have to sail against the wind and against the waves. The wind will push the ship off course, but to survive a storm like this the ship needs to keep its bow to the waves. If a wave catches the ship on her side or back, there’s no chance for survival. You’ll have to use your sea anchor and just pray that the Gods are feeling merciful.

“Baekhyun!” you shout. He turns immediately at the sound of your voice. “How good are you at the wheel?”

“I’m decent.”

“How’s your tracking? Your jibbing? Can you keep the ship from capsizing in this storm?”

He looks up in the sky when the sound of thunder shakes the floorboards. “My jibbing isn't the best, but I think I can keep her afloat,” he promises.

The feeling of static fills the air. The hair on your body rises to attention. Another rumble of thunder rolls across the ocean, louder than before. The sky is darker than it was 5 minutes ago.

There isn’t much longer until the storm hits.

“I need you at the wheel. I’m trusting my ship to you. Don’t let me down.” With a determined nod, Baekhyun is off. You see your first strike of lighting. Bright blue and not far off.

Chanyeol runs up to you to assure you that all of the cannons, ammunition, and artillery are properly secured. “Tell Minseok to get all his men below deck in the storm rooms. Secure any hatch and pray to the Gods that we make it through this,” you instruct. He nods and runs off.

When a storm hits, it hurts more than it helps to have people above deck. Three people would do the job just as well as all 20. Half of weathering a storm is the training and skill of the crew; and the other half is just pure luck.

The beginning patters of rain begin to pelt the ship. You run back up to the helm where Baekhyun has stationed himself.

The ocean gets choppy, picks up ferocity. The ship leans starboard. Baekhyun has never steered your ship, and truthfully, you have no idea whether or not he can actually steer through a storm. You’ve never seen him at the wheel of any ship in all the years you’ve known him.

“Do you think we’ll make it through this?” you ask.

“Honestly…I don’t know,” he admits. “We have enough sea room; we won’t crash into anything this far out. I just hope we can pick up enough speed before the waves start to grow.”

Junmyeon reappears, with Kyungsoo at his side, both out of breath. “We’ve prepared all that we can. The sea anchor is deployed, we’ve got a decent amount of ballast, the jib is ready to be backwinded, and the crew is all prepared for the rocking. What’s the plan?”

“Heaving to,” Baekhyun says simply. He swipes at his bangs, heavy with water and clinging to this forehead. “We keep the bow to the waves, keep close to the wind, and then lock the helm in place.”

“Won’t we broadside?!”

“No, if we were to lie ahull, we would broadside,” Kyungsoo supplies, blocking his eyes from the rain picking up in ferocity. “By heaving to, we can keep the ship from going parallel to the waves and capsizing. We’ll have to stay above deck to correct it if the wind or waves suddenly change. Since you’ve got a sea anchor we’ve got more chance of keeping the ship sailing straight into the waves rather than along them.”

“If heaving to doesn’t work, we try to run off downwind. As the wind increases we’ll have to slow down the ship as much as we can so that we don’t dive straight into the wave in front of us.” A bolt of lightning hits the waves. The rain gets harder.

“We would die…” You say unhelpfully. Lighting blasts in front of you and the waves crash angrily against the ship’s sides.

“Exactly. So if we run off, we’re going to need more than the four of us to throw whatever heavy lines you have off the stern,” Baekhyun’s voice rises to be heard over the increasingly loud winds and waves.

“As a last result, we’ll lie ahull and just fucking pray that when we capsize the ship holds for long enough to keep all of us alive,” Kyungsoo shouts.

You exhale shakily as another three bolts of lightning flash across the sky.

Poseidon be kind to us all.

You leave Baekhyun with the job of steering the ship against the waves that grow in size and power by the second.

At Kyungsoo’s instruction, Junmyeon is in charge of keeping the jib backwinded, and you reef the trysail as soon as it becomes clear that it’s going to be a hindrance in the grand scheme of things. Kyungsoo stands at Baekhyun’s side correcting course when he gets thrown off balance. Baekhyun does the same as Kyungsoo is knocked to the side in turn.

The waves become brutal, rocking the ship so hard that it’s nearly impossible to keep on your feet for more than 10 seconds at a time.

The wind finally sets in a single direction, fiercer than anything you’ve faced, and the general direction of the waves becomes apparent. The ship rocks violently from side to side and then immediately forward and back. You’re thrown into the foremast by the unexpected direction change with enough force to knock the wind out of your body. You gasp in pain. You get up on wobbling legs and try to breathe even as the water falls so fast and heavy around you that it feels equivalent to drowning.

You can’t see more than two feet ahead of yourself.

Think. Think.

There is rope at your feet, secured to the mainmast of the ship. You untie it with cold, wet fingers and hold it tight as you walk to the helm. The ship crashes into another large wave and you fall to your knees as water washes over the bow of the hull, covers the deck in freezing water and pitches the ship forwards. You stand up, shivering but determined. You tie the rope around your own waist to help you keep note of where you’ve come from.

Getting to the helm is a challenge, but you make it. Junmyeon is helping Baekhyun and Kyungsoo lock it in place.

“We should head below deck!” You shout as loud as you can. Thunder and lightning work in tandem to drown out your voice. To remind you of who is louder. Who has more power. You’re soaked to the bone.

Each man above deck is in a similar state. “We’re going below deck!” Junmyeon shouts. “We think heaving to may work.” The ship lurches dangerously to the right.

“Quick! Let’s go,” Kyungsoo screams, hair clinging to his forehead in inky black tendrils.

You use the rope to guide you. It feels as though you’re swimming through the air with the amount of resistance the winds and rain are putting up. Kyungsoo makes it to the hatch that leads below first. You follow behind, climbing down the ladder with shaking limbs. Water leaks through the boards, but it’s a welcome change from the brutality of facing Mother Nature directly.

You gasp for breath, finally able to breathe without also inhaling water, and look around the space for the ship’s emergency supplies. The ship dips, your stomach lurches.

Freezing water streams into the room from the open hatch above. You realize belatedly that there are only two of you in the compartment. Baekhyun and Junmyeon haven’t made it down.

You’re thrown to the ground when the ship dips without warning.

Clattering catches your attention as Junmyeon is swept into the room with a fresh rush of water. “Baekhyun fell overboard!” Junmyeon screams. He crashes against the ground. The sky screams.

What?

Kyungsoo turns away from opening the hatch down to a lower level of the ship to gape at Junmyeon’s words in horror.

Gasping, soaked, Junmyeon looks around the compartment frantically.

You’re moving before you have a chance to think.

You vaguely hear your name being called out from behind, but you don’t turn around. Rope still secured around your waist, you run, slip, stumble, over to the closest life boat. As fast as your shaking hands can work, you cut yourself free of the mainmast and tie the end of the rope not tied to your body to the dinghy.

You slice through the thick ropes holding the dinghy to the side of the ship with an urgency you’ve never felt. Water hits you head on, chilling you to the bone.

The final rope snaps and you and the dighy fall into the water with the force of landing on cement. Something is broken, but your adrenaline is pumping so violently that you can’t feel the pain. It doesn’t register.

Doesn’t matter.

You look around frenzied. The water is pitch black and moving too fast. The rain pelts your skin. It stings, burns, blurs your vision.

The waves are too big for him to survive out here on his own.

They’re too big for you to survive in your search for him.

The sky roars.

The waves crash, flip your boat once, twice.

You settle upright for the second time when, by the grace of the Gods, you see his white shirt illuminated against the dark water by a strike of lightning. You row frantically as a wave begins to swell. You nearly scream in relief when you reach him, but the sound dies as your heart sinks.

He’s not moving.

And he’s face down.

With all the energy you can muster, you pull him into your little boat. You take a few seconds you catch your breath, then you realize the height at which the wave has lifted you. It begins to cascade down; instinctively, you wrap your arms around Baekhyun’s unmoving form and brace yourself for the crash.

It’s dizzying.

It hurts.

It’s terrifying.

You hold your breath, close your eyes, hold onto the man in your arms with all you have, and wait for the water to stop jostling you around so violently. The water seems to calm slightly, so you open your eyes.

The water is dark, and then bright. Black, and then illuminated by lighting.

Your chest tightens as your need for oxygen reaches desperation. You maneuver yourself beneath the water enough to hold Baekhyun with one arm and swim to the top with the other.

You break the surface and gasp for air desperately.

You pull your rope and the boat appears at your side, thankfully upright. You lift Baekhyun aboard first, and then with heavy limbs, you topple on top of him. You don’t give yourself a chance to catch your breath before you’re leaning over him checking for signs of life.

You lower your ear to his chest. You can’t tell if he’s breathing. If his heart is beating.

“Come on Byun. Don’t die on me like this,” you beg. You repeatedly push against his chest, the way you were taught to restart a heart. After a few beats you press your ear to his chest again to listen for a change.

Nothing.

“Fuck. Come on…come on,” you pant.

You pinch his nose and lean down to cover his mouth with yours, filling his lungs with the air that he’s unable to take in on his own. His chest rises each time you exhale into his mouth. You go back to pumping your locked hands against his chest. A wave knocks you on your side. The boat stays upright.

You exhale into his mouth again, once, twice. You beg the rain to let up. You beg the waves to grow smaller.

You beg his heart to start beating.

He jerks and water spurts from his mouth. Relief hits you so hard that all the energy left in your body is expelled and you sag forward and land directly onto his chest.

You can finally hear the dull thumping of his heart. You can feel the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

At last, you can take a second to just breathe.

The small boat continues to jerk around, but it’s clear that the worst of the storm has passed. The waves now are shallow and choppy. The rain has lessened to nothing but a drizzle. The thunder rumbles farther and farther in the distance.

And Baekhyun’s heartbeat gets stronger.

You close your eyes, and let exhaustion overcome you, lulled into sleep by the beat of his heart and the rocking of the boat.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfics #exo imagine #exo pirate au #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fanfics #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun smut #exo stories #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun stories #baekhyun pirate au

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silviartemis · 4 years

Text

Mental Health Headcanons

This made me sweat blood

Will I do the other half of the kids? Yup. Someday.

TW: this is not graphic or unnecessarily heavy but is still about mental health struggles so if it’s a Bad day take care of yourself. (mentions of: depression, anxiety, ptsd, self destructive tendencies, manic episodes, abuse, dissociation, mentions of death, implied ableism.)

These are headcanons, some is based on canon, some is based on ideas floating around the fandom, I straight up invented other stuff and would love to know what you think and your own headcanons about this topic!

Everything under the cut <3 Also, Canon Era

Katherine had to deal with her mother's depression, which made her emotionally and often physically unavailable most of her life. Thankfully other people (Hannah we love you) stepped in to fill that void somewhat so she didn't suffer as much as she could have but naturally she didn't come out of it completely fine. She has a hard time recognizing and taking care of her own emotional needs and has a very unstable self esteem, sometimes leading to anxious episodes and burn out cause she works herself ragged trying to be "seen" by other people. Has a very strong will though and has learned over time to stop, take a breath, and analyze what she’s feeling.

The Jacobs household is a loving, caring space and that is so important for psychological well being. It’s not very big on communication or feelings though so the Jacob children learned to express themselves mostly through logic and reason, or through their bodies.

· When David was little he showed the first signs of anxiety by having horrible stomach aches whenever he had to leave home to go to school or temple and it’s still one of the main symptoms he gets whenever he struggles with it. Now he still has a difficult time in new social contexts but he more prominently worries about his role and responsibilities in the family, or the future. It can be intense at times but when he was younger his mom helped him learn how to handle it. Since he’s very methodical he has set specific strategies to cope with different stressors (and he’ll gladly teach them to whoever needs it).He still has crisis when the situation is particularly dire but with a little grounding from a friend or his sister he can calm down before he really starts spiraling.

· Sarah is mostly fine. She has stress and responsibilities and frustrations like everyone but seldom gests overwhelmed. When she does, and straight up gets a fever, it's because she refused to acknowledge the emotional or physical toll something had on her, insisted on analyzing and acting following only logic and pragmatism, and ended up ignoring the signs of struggle her mind or her body were showing. She is fine with some rest and care from her parents and siblings.

· Les is a child. A lucky one, because he's surrounded by people that love him and take care of him. He's a very smart kid, like his sister he tends to focus more on the pragmatic side of things. He's less naïve now than he was when he first met the newsies but that only gave him more conscience of the world and more compassion. Will he struggle in his life? Of course, who doesn't. But he has one of the best support systems ever so he'll be alright.

Jack has been self-sufficient most of his life, even when he had his father around. After that, still little more than a child, he had to provide for other kids too. That affected his emotional development: he neutralizes his negative emotions by creating an escape from reality, an image to reach for to keep from succumbing to anxiety and depression. While this is functional to survival, it leaves him even more vulnerable when those emotions inevitably blow up. His multiple stays at the Refuge scarred him more than he’ll ever admit and left him struggling with some PTSD symptoms he carefully hides. His newsies family (the oldest at least) notice anyway and subtly help him calm down. Their love, shown through little gestures and kind touches (he’s very tactile), keeps him grounded. He has a very strong sense of self that helps him get through even the worst times without losing his core. Will put his own needs on hold to care for his family but is not self-destructive, he knows his limits and how far he can push himself before he’s no longer helping.

Crutchie struggles with self worth and self efficacy, tries to mask it by being as independent as possible, even refusing help he actually needs. His family died during the polio epidemic he got sick in but he was very young and he almost doesn't remember them (removal of traumatic memories). Uses his sunny personality to hide his struggles and the fears and discouragement that come with them. He spent many years in an orphanage where he was treated like his being alive was terribly inconvenient so when he feels overwhelmed he seeks isolation because he doesn’t want to be a burden. His experience at the Refuge, albeit horrible, was thankfully very brief so it didn't scar him too much, he has nightmares sometimes but can be comforted easily by his found family.

Race has what we'd now call adhd, he’s actually quite good ad handling it and channeling his erratic energy in making his and other kids lives easier. Except when he keeps purposefully distracting himself from taking care of his needs and pushes himself to the edge of physical collapse either to provide for the younger kids or to fulfill the self destructive tendencies that pop up in his worse days. He may appear very easygoing but has trust issues bigger than the Brooklyn Bridge, cause after only a few months in America his mother left him on the steps of the church and walked away. Incredibly loyal to the ones that eventually gain his trust. Puts on a shield of humor to protect the more vulnerable parts of himself. He has had one of the roughest stays at the refuge (along with Jack) that left him with some post traumatic stress symptoms like nightmares and flashbacks. Very tactile, the feeling of warmth from a hug will calm him down in his worst moments. One of his biggest strengths is his resilience, he will bend but won’t break.

Albert is a victim of abuse. Many other kids are, in one way or another, but usually they come from a very bad situation that they had to flee as soon as they could. Albert's abuse built up over a very long time, keeping him trapped in a home that he felt guilty leaving and slowly numbed him to his own pain. He went from a loving family, through a terrible loss, to neglect, to physical and psychological violence. Struggles with emotion regulation and anger outbursts, has some PTSD symptoms such as flinching away from touch and light dissociation, if triggered. Both craves and is averse to touch, tends to feel over-stimulated when he’s tired or stressed so he copes by holing up with Race on the rooftop. One of the healthiest ways he has to express his emotions is his fierce protectiveness of the people he loves.

Spot fled an abusive neglectful household when he was young, but not before he was completely sure he could fend for himself against the whole world. One of his siblings died while in their parents care and that loss and anger caused him to put up walls so high and thick no older Brooklyn newsie ever really gained his trust, but immediately became very protective of the younger kids, in time earning his position as the borough leader without even noticing. He translates all his emotions into action, often leading to manic episodes that, once they’re over, leave him exhausted both physically and emotionally. While he’s feared by many outside of Brooklyn, his newsies love and respect him and know when to step in and let him retreat for a couple of hours to rest.

#Newsies #katherine pulitzer #davey jacobs #sarah jacobs #les jacobs #Jack Kelly #crutchie morris #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #ehiIwrotethis

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