#''wHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME'' ''I DIDN'T THINK IT WARRANTED A MEDIC''

[transingthoseformers]

... Megatron having a glitch in his coding that puts him into a constant state of low-level heat. So he's alluring but not irrestible, has the secondary valve but most importantly, pretty much up for a frag at any time.

He is stubbornly not telling Knockout about this but also Optimus is looking a little too good on the battlefield today—

[copperbadge]

hi, i had a medium to big question. in your post about the adhd self-help book you mentioned people with adhd being conditioned to be nonconfrontational, but i've never once in my entire life connected the two? can you break down the connection for me so that i can once again (this week, even) have my understanding of my own condition blown wide open?

So, you are not the only person to ask about this, but that's on me for being unclear -- I wasn't trying to assert that kids with ADHD are automatically conditioned to be nonconfrontational, I was more trying to be like "Hey not everyone needs lessons in medical self-advocacy but a lot of nonconfrontational people do." And I think there is a higher population of people with neurodivergence who are deeply confrontation-averse, but I don't have like, numbers for that, it's just an assumption based on other knowledge.

It gets complicated; ADHD is a disease based heavily in acting impulsively against your best interests. But yeah I do think people with ADHD are often conditioned to avoid confrontation because of two main factors: rejection-sensitive dysphoria and executive dysfunction.

RSD, which I hate perhaps more than any other symptom or behavior associated with ADHD, automatically kicks our nervous system into high gear in social situations and encodes embarrassing moments in our memory with high-def clarity. Because RSD naturally causes a level of anxiety around socialization, it tends to make us nonconfrontational simply because a) we don't want to be yelled at, b) we don't want to embarrass ourselves by getting emotional about something that may not warrant it, and c) by the time we realize what's happening our body is already on high alert which means we are likely to go into fight-flight-freeze mode.

Me, I freeze, usually, but none of those three options are great for fast thinking during an argument. I used to lose arguments a lot simply because I couldn't think or react as fast as the neurotypical person I was fighting with, so I simply stopped having fights. Notably, I did not have this problem when fighting with my brother, who is also neurodivergent and has many of the same freeze reactions I do.

If people disagree with me, even when I know I'm right I also know I probably won't be able to vocalize it properly, so I back down. Usually it's trivial so it doesn't matter, and I've gotten strategic about how and when I argue about things that do matter; it's also a lot easier to do with strangers or professionals (like doctors) where I don't have to worry about long-term social repercussions. But yeah, our own nervous system tells us "hey maybe don't pick this fight" about every single fight and if we do pick that fight, it treats our opponent as a dangerous predator.

Executive dysfunction's interaction with nonconfrontation is something I have less problem with because while I do have poor executive function, I've spent a lot of time and energy training myself to cover the Important Stuff. I have mild ADHD so I'm capable of this; I'm not trying to say everyone with ADHD is, because lord knows it's exhausting for me and I've been doing it for roughly thirty years. But essentially, I cover where it counts: if someone needs me to do something I do it, I meet deadlines, I pay bills.

So with that disclaimer in place, a very common issue especially for children with undiagnosed ADHD is that they'll be told or asked to do something and simply be unable to begin or complete it, then when they're asked why they didn't do it they can't explain. Even if they try to explain that they simply couldn't, like they were incapable of doing it for reasons they don't understand, that usually doesn't hold water with a lot of parents and teachers.

"I couldn't bring myself to write this essay," is actually something I told myself a few times in college, but it's not something I'd bother trying to tell someone else, because if you think you're neurotypical that sounds very insane. So I'd lie and say I forgot, or I'd take the fail, or I'd simply drop out of the class. Crucially I would not fight with the authority figure who was questioning me about it, because I knew I wouldn't be able to explain myself, and I'd just end up getting in more trouble for longer.

Our culture is structured for neurotypicals, and it's not even structured for all neurotypicals. Behavior that deviates from Approved Neurotypical even when you think you are Approved Neurotypical is highly punishable. So if your options are passivity, even when passivity leads to pain, or confrontation, most people who aren't Approved Neurotypical will opt for passivity once they've had a taste of where confrontation leads. I know I do.

And the thing is, there's nothing actually wrong with that. It's a strategy calculated to minimize pain. Even when I'm firing on all cylinders on a fresh dose of Adderall, I still generally let fights go unless there will be actual real consequences, because it's just not worth it. But knowing we have ADHD and knowing we fall into this pattern, I think it is good to be aware that sometimes letting a fight go is really going to fuck you, and at that point even being bad at it is better than not engaging.

I'm pretty good at calculating those, but it's a lifelong process, knowing which hills to die on when you assume you will automatically die if you ever get above sea level.

[chibieggplant]

Allies

Angy Law | Fluffy

Inspired by @mariistyping fic Allies? No

You had initially gone to the medical bay to seek out Law and review the plans for the upcoming mission. Although only a few weeks had passed since meeting each other, the bond between the two of you had grown significantly, resulting in a unique connection that was hard to ignore. You found yourself sitting intimately next to him, with your legs casually draped over his lap. As Law's fingers traced along your jaw, you inched your face closer to his, and the conversation about plans became irrelevant and faded away. It would be an understatement to say you both were startled when Nami waltzed into the room, talking about how Chopper needed more medical supplies.

Nami's sudden appearance surprised you both, breaking the spell that had fallen over you. Looking over to see her expression, which could only be described as shock, you quickly got off of his lap and hid away the feelings of embarrassment that started to creep up on you. The two of you had decided to keep your feelings for each other a secret for now, so Nami's suspicion as she narrowed her eyes, trying to process the situation was well warranted.

You discreetly cleared your throat, trying your best to appear nonchalant. While Law got up from his seat with a noticeable blush on his face, avoiding eye contact with anyone. “N-nami, we were just discussing the plans for the upcoming missions and reviewing the erm…” You could tell by the look in her eyes and her slightly amused expression that she knew exactly what was happening. Looking back at you, she smirked and responded. "Oh, is that right? I'm sure you two were...discussing everything."

“W-well, we’re allies, so naturally, staying prepared is crucial. And uh, hence why we were…we were making sure we are ready for…” you trail off and shift your gaze to Law, who is now looking at you with narrowed eyes. “Anyway...I think the plans are pretty much sorted, yeah, so…” you briskly walk past Nami, making a beeline to your room to dodge any potential questions and further humiliation.

Nami's smirk didn't fade as you hurried out of the room, leaving behind an awkward and tense atmosphere between her and Law. As soon as you were out of the room, the two of them started staring at each other in silence. Law was both annoyed at your haste and frustrated at himself for being so reckless, but more than that, he was pissed at your choice of words. “Allies?" He muttered under his breath. That was a mistake. Your choice of wording profoundly impacted him, stirring something deep inside him which led him to question who you saw him as. He acknowledged that he had no right to be upset with you, but the word you chose left him feeling angry nonetheless. “Excuse me” Without sparing even a passing glance towards Nami, he strode hastily towards your room.

Your attempt to dodge Nami seemed to have been a catalyst to kickstart Law’s need to confront you. His steps were quick and heavy as he walked through the halls of the Thousand Sunny. He stormed in your room without knocking. He was clearly pissed off, and it showed. "y/n-ya..." His voice was soft, yet firm.

You were lying on your bed with your head buried in your arms, lost in a sea of self-pity and embarrassment when Law burst into your room. As he stood there, staring at you, his eyes were filled with frustration and annoyance. As your gaze met his, an almost palpable tension filled the silence that ensued.

“Allies?..." There was a slight tinge of hurt when he asked the question. He glared at you for a few moments before speaking again. "Was that the best you could come up with? Allies? Is that how you see me? An ally?" his tone was laced with a hint of sarcasm and bitterness. He let out a small snort and crossed his arms, looking away with an agitated expression.

“We said we weren't going to tell anyone!” you protested as you stood up from the bed. “I didn't expect Nami to come waltzing in. That was the best I could come up with on the spot…” you uttered with a slight pout.

Your statement had done little to appease Law's agitation. Instead, it only fueled it further. His expression only hardened. "That's not the point, y/n-ya! You could have come up with any other word besides allies!" He spoke harsher than he intended, his voice slightly rising.

“Well…well, what would you have referred to us as?” You crossed your arms in a huff. He was taken back by your counterquestion. His expression softened slightly as he realized you had a point. His stance stiffened, and he looked down slightly, his voice losing some of its sternness. "I-i don't know…Friends? Or..." he stopped speaking, his voice fading away as he let out a deep sigh of frustration “But definitely not allies.." he mumbled under his breath, clearly annoyed with himself for becoming so annoyed at the situation. There was a short moment of silence before he sighed again and his expression softened once more. Instead of speaking, he simply stepped towards you and pulled you into a warm embrace. “We’re not allies” He murmured softly as he nestled his face in the nape of your neck.

The suddenness of his embrace caught you off-guard, but you welcomed it willingly as you wrapped your arms around him, too. He was so warm, and the comforting pressure of his body against yours made it easy to bury your worries. You were both silent for a while, with only the sound of his heart beating strongly against your chest. Finally, you broke the silence by whispering. "Just so you know, you're much more than an ally."

When you spoke, he could feel your soft breath on his neck. A warm smile spread across his lips as he let out a small chuckle. You could feel his tension slowly subsiding as he pressed a kiss firmly to your neck “Good," He said simply. His embrace slowly loosened slightly, but he still maintained a firm grip, refusing to let go just yet. There was a pause before he finally spoke again. "You know I don't like all the mushy stuff, right?" He mumbled, his voice low and quiet.

Though his tone didn't quite capture it, you knew there was a slight smile on his face as he made his comment. It made you grin faintly as you nuzzled your face into him. He was right, though. He was terrible at mushy stuff; but it was cute when he tried. “Yeah, I know” As you nestled into his arms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. The warmth of his embrace made you feel secure, and you knew that he cared for you sincerely.

"But…I'll make an exception just for you, okay?" He drew back a bit, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. This all was still a new experience for him, but he was making an effort for you. You could feel his heartbeat quickening as he tried to hold on tight to his cool and stoical exterior. He didn't want to be the type to get too sappy, but he couldn't help himself from time to time. His hand rose to gently stroke the side of your face as his gaze locked with yours. "Besides…now I have a girlfriend. I guess I better get used to it." As he spoke, his voice grew softer, and his hands gently moved to run through your hair. Your heart skipped a beat as he called you his girlfriend for the first time. “Girlfriend?” you whispered softly.

"Girlfriend." He said once again, this time firmly and clearly. "Now when someone asks you about our relationship, you can say boyfriend, not ally” Although he intended to say this playfully, it was evident that he was expressing his thoughts seriously.

You let out a quiet chuckle, finding yourself smiling as he held you. Him calling you his girlfriend was a pleasant surprise. Though not quite the romantic gesture you expected, it was comforting and endearing in its own way. He may not yet feel comfortable being all cutesy and sappy, but this was more than enough to make you happy. You felt his eyes fix onto yours as he smiled, his gaze filled with warmth. “So, does this mean we can finally tell everyone about us?” you grinned with anticipation, hoping that he'd give a positive response.

Unable to resist a smirk, he returned your grin and gave you a quick nod. "I think we can. Maybe it's a good thing Nami caught us. Now everyone can know that I'm your boyfriend.” His smirk grew as he whispered that last part, his voice tinged with a subtle note of possessiveness. He hadn't intended to come out like that, but he found himself wanting to make it known that he was your significant other.

Your smile widened at the response. You were happy to be able to announce your relationship openly finally and have confirmation on the relationship between you. As he continued to grin, his hand rose to brush the strands of hair out of your face, and he leaned forward slightly to whisper another few words. “Just to clarify, I'm yours, and you're mine, alright? And no one gets to touch what's mine.” He had a subtle tone of voice, seemingly humorous, but in reality, he meant every word.

The tone of his voice and the hint of seriousness he conveyed left you in no doubt that he meant what he said. Although the sentiment may have seemingly been playful, it was evident that he fully meant it, albeit in his own way. You smirked once again before leaning towards him, your fingers reaching up to grab his hand. "I can't decide which is cuter. Your mushy moments or the possessive side of you." You giggled before adding, “But I think I like both.”

He smirked and shook his head, his face now a deep shade of pink as he realised how mushy he had just been. After a moment, he sighed and let out an amused chuckle as he squeezed your hand. "Oh, shut up. I know I don't give off a romantic vibe." He replied with a flicker of irritation, although he knew he was anything but irritated right now as he continued to gaze into your eyes.

You feigned a scowl as he expressed his irritation, and you responded playfully. "And yet here you are being adorable and mushy…you could have fooled me." With that said, you gave a soft chuckle as you squeezed his hand once again. In a moment of impulse, you drew close to him until you faces were only a few inches apart. Your movements were enough to catch his attention, and he noted the distance between you. He let out an amused sigh and raised a brow. You could have sworn by the quick flash of his grin that he was enjoying this, even if he wouldn't admit it. You were about to speak, but you were cut off by Law suddenly leaning in and locking his lips with yours. Your breath hitched as his hand tightened around yours, pulling you closer to him. His lips were warm and welcoming as he embraced you passionately.

As you wrapped your arms around him, your lips seamlessly blended with his in a heated kiss that felt natural and effortless. The embrace of his arms around you made you feel safe and secure as if nothing else in the world mattered. As his hand reached up, he gently caressed the back of your head while his lips pressed against yours, deepening the kiss with a firm yet tender touch. He drew you in, his lips parting as his tongue flicked across your lower lip. He let out a soft hum, his tone filled with intensity as he pulled back a bit, caught up in the moment. He uttered just one word -”Mine”- but it carried a weight that left no room for doubt. He leaned in to kiss you once more, your mouths meeting in a tender embrace. His hands smoothly glided down the curves of your body, firmly grasping the sides of your waist, bringing you even closer to him.

When your mouths met again, you could feel his intensity as your bodies pressed together. As if driven by sheer passion, he placed one hand on your lower back and pushed tightly against you, his other hand reaching up and wrapping around the back of your neck. His touch radiated heat as the heat of the moment filled the air. Your breath hitched with each movement, and your lips parted in a soft gasp. You could barely catch your breath in moments, the passion filling every corner of your being. His kiss was vigorous and consuming but filled with tender affection as he parted his lips to speak.

"Always remember, you belong to me, and I belong to you" his voice was soft and smooth, although you could sense the undercurrent of possessive intent creeping into his tone. The hand on the back of your neck tightened ever so slightly, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled you back into another kiss. He made sure to express all his intentions clearly, and he did so successfully. He wanted you to understand that you were his.

[sysmedsaresexist]

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8134744/

This was from the person you were just arguing with and I'm wondering if you've read it at all? I just took a glance at the final table and it pissed me off so much I need someone else to see it.

Like God forbid someone knows about DID before being diagnosed with it. God forbid someone thinks they might have DID/have others in their life think they might have it and pursue treatment for the disorder that matches their symptoms. God forbid someone be upset that a medical professional is refusing to diagnose them based off of (checks notes) being aware of the disorder, expressing their symptoms to the person doing the assessment so they can have a better picture of the situation, be dissociated from painful feelings surrounding trauma, not remember that they forget mundane things/not express that they forget mundane things.

I'm so.

Oh my god.

This just in! The only way to really have DID is to not know about it before a professional guesses you have it and does a through assessment! Which will definitely happen before someone realises they might have DID/gets suggested they might have DID by someone else! Including by their psychologist apparently! Because being in a position where you're being assessed by someone qualified to diagnose is super common when you have no reason to seek these people out because you don't know about DID at all!

Omfg

Our psychologist who is a trauma specialist specialising in complex cases didn't pick it up before we did. She only considered it after we brought it up. And based on her thorough and qualified assessment, we were right. Yk despite meeting all those criteria in the final table of having not real DID, such as access to the internet and a desire to understand your symptoms better.

I don't know about the other mods, but yes I've seen this study before. First off, I want to say that your frustration is understandable and I'm with you. Please trust your psychologist over anyone on the Internet, especially regarding your mental health. I recommend blocking that blog that you saw one of the mods arguing with. Take care of yourself.

Now, about this study -- I think you're misunderstanding it. Actually, I think a lot of people misunderstand it. I sometimes see FDC-types throw this article around as an excuse to play armchair psych and fakeclaim people. It's not okay.

This paper is for clinicians who diagnose DID. It is about the difficulty of diagnosing DID. It is meant to be a resource to help prevent false-positive diagnoses.

There are some people out there who think they have DID but don't actually. That is a reality for every mental disorder and physical illness, too. It's an inherently neutral topic. There should be no shame towards these people.

There are a variety of reasons why someone might think they have DID when they actually don't.

In the paper, they talk about 6 patients who think they have DID but actually don't. These patients had already been assessed by clinicians to not have DID. They are interviewed in this study and assessed again. The paper outlines the reasons why it's agreed that these patients do not fit a DID diagnosis.

The table at the end is not a "how to spot a faker" guide. It is a list of potential red flags for clinicians who are assessing a patient. This list only applies to diagnostic interviews, and all it warrants is just further exploration.

Only a trained clinician can tell you if you have DID or not, not online assholes who know how to use google scholar.

[swampndn]

Lol y'all. In my attempt of actually doing shit to take care of me, I fucked up.

A trauma dear diary

So my two best friends have been telling me to get a massage for a long time, so last night, I impulse booked at 9am. I had therapy also today, so I figured it'd be a good idea to do both in the same day. Macrodose the self care. I even got an oil change too!

Anyway, the last massage I've ever gotten was 14 years ago, and given how much has happened in that time (and how hard I am on my physical body), I figured the 90-minute session over the 60 was warranted. This is big for me as I really got problems with people touching me in any kind of care way and lotion texture problems. We go over my medical history and current injuries. She is very thorough and very non-threatening.

Then we start. It's fine. It's all good. No problems. I surprisingly have no tension in my shoulders or neck, which surprised both of us.

But then y'all. She got to my hips, and hot fucking damn. She is shook, and she tells me that she doesn't remember the last time she experienced someone with the sheer amount of tension. She knows about my hypermobility disability, and she tells me that she's certain that is the only reason I'm still able to walk because there should be no way. So she is WORKIN' when all of a sudden, boom.

A very bad repressed memory comes back.

I've been in intensive trauma therapy for almost 2 years now for a number of things, but there was an incident in October that brought to light a confirmed series of events I had completely repressed. A whole ass thing.

Anyway, so today I get shot back to a memory. It's wild. Physical sensations, thoughts I was thinking at that exact moment in time, breathing, crystal clear vision like I'm literally there, and it's happening in real time. Honestly, the most clear memory recovery and flashback I have ever experienced, and there have been a few.

I come back to the table. I'm fine. I compartmentalize, knowing I'll deal with that in a few hours. We finish the massage, and I try to get up. Y'all, I'm disoriented. My vision is dim. I can barely move. I have to lean against the wall. I have no idea how long it took to get dressed, but it was a while as the therapist asked if I was okay. I was plenty hydrated before I got there. It was a physical experience I've never had. But I finally got my clothes on, and she gave me a treatment plan that seems very helpful and good. I pay then I leave.

I felt (and still feel) physically quite good. I've never noticed how my hips feel (mainly because my ankles and knees take all the focus), and I'm now hyper aware of them. I am fully stacked with back to back meetings until therapy, so I do them all. Again, feeling physically quite good.

Then I go to therapy. I tell my therapist, and she then goes, "We tell trauma patients to not get massages! Why didn't you talk to me about this first???"

She explains a lot of things like being triggered by certain physical touches etc., but her big thing was that there's a ton of research about how this specific type of intensive trauma I have LIVES IN THE HIPS. I was aware of that before, but since I never had problems with my hips, I didn't think it was applicable to me.

HA HA HA JOKES ON ME

I've since been googling about that, and uh oh. Now I understand her concern.

[judasgot-it]

Tecchou x Reader

"Really? Anything for 20 dollars?"

Scenario: You try not to vomit on Tecchou's shoes after eating one of his food combinations.

Warning: There's vomit. Also might make a part two? I don't know tbh.

As the secretary for the Hunting Dog's, you were privy to a lot of their personal lives. You had access to their medical records, taxes, personal files...as well as seeing just how downright weird they are.

It was no secret that they were bizarre, but the longer you were exposed to them, the more you realized that they were just...like that.

Somehow you still cared about them.

"Tecchou that is nasty, I would rather die than be around that." You could hear yelling from across the building, meaning that the group had come back from a mission.

Which was actually good news seeing as you had managed to finish your paperwork for the day, so you could take your leave without much notice. No one would mind if you left anything for the next day anyway, seeing as no one got much done in the building when they were around.

It wasn't their fault, they were just...loud.

"Why don't we ask y/n? They'll judge it fairly."

Oh great.

You started sneaking around the room, trying to find another exit other than the single door you had to your office. You really wanted to take your early leave without their shenanigans.

Surely there was a secret exit somewhere behind your desk?

Too late. It opened.

"Y/n, could you assist us?" Tecchou sounded far too calm and polite after slamming open your office door, causing another hole into your wall. Jouno followed, leaving the door open as if your privacy didn't matter.

It really didn't, not with this group.

You didn't bother responding, just waiting for them to explain what they were arguing about.

"Tecchou made the most disgusting drink and this time he is actually trying to convince me it's consumable. Please tell him even you won't try it." Jouno was ranting, standing as far as possible from Tecchou who was holding a gallon jug of some strange concoction.

Tecchou, to make a point, took a swing of it, drinking a third of the drink and making a loud noise of satisfaction. Jouno screamed in annoyance.

"OK. What's in it that's so bad?" If you were being honest, you tended to think Jouno was being dramatic sometimes. Soy Sauce Latte's weren't that bad - not a drink of choice, but not exactly worth a tantrum.

"Eggs, Ramen noodles, protein powder, monster energy, sour gummy bears and ginger."

He said it with a straight face as Jouno gagged. It was dramatic but it was warranted this time. You felt bile rise in the back of your throat at even the thought of that. You couldn't even move from your spot.

"Tecchou...what made you think this was a good idea?" You were having a staring contest as he swished his drink around, which you now noticed had a sort of mushy consistency. Did he put it in a blender?

"I combined my lunch with my pre-workout and my snack, it's genius. Now I can take it while I'm on the go."

He took another swing, face unchanging. It was a challenge, almost.

He was a smart man who has gone undefeated in battle, with unquestionable morals. But his idea of a 'genius' drink...

"I'm going to vomit..." Jouno was almost sweating.

"Why would you want me to try that?" You really did not want to try it. The gallon jug was halfway empty now, which astounded you. How did he drink it so fast?

"Please?" His face was genuine. Like a sad puppy.

You looked to the side, and then back at him. Maybe he was secretly a genius, able to toy with your emotions so easily.

His puppy eyes were very persuasive if you were being honest.

"20 dollars. 100 if I vomit. And I take only one swing."

Jouno gagged again.

"Really?! You can be bought out so easily?" Jouno wasn't even drinking it but he was suffering so much, his face red from being near the drink. How was he considered a super soldier?

"Anything for 20 dollars Jouno. Seriously, I did some crazy things before I had this job."

You weren't kidding either. This job payed well enough to keep you in the position, so you didn't bother finding a new one. You weren't exactly the most employable person out there anyway.

"Really? Anything for 20 dollars?" Tecchou walked over to you, handing you the disgusting mixture.

"I'm gonna have to keep that in mind."

His tone sounded odd. Did he really plan on using this against you?

"Please don't make me doing this a regular thing." You looked into the jug finally, seeing the weird piss color of the mixture as it sloshed around in the jug.

Tecchou just smiled at you. You didn't know what his intentions were.

Maybe 20 dollars wasn't enough.

You didn't bother prepping, just raising it up and taking a swing. As you did, you heard Jouno choke on air again.

You choked too as you felt the mixture hit your mouth. It was horrible.

First it was the texture. It was a mixture of liquid and some sort of mashed substance. The gummy bears and Ramen made it a strange mix of chewy and soggy. Then it was the taste. It was everything and nothing. But it sure as hell burned everything it touched. There was a lot of ginger, with a hint of artificial sweetness from the energy drink.

You kept it there, scared to swallow, before you tried to take it all in at once. You had to take the jug away as you choked with your mouth closed, trying not to spit everything out.

You closed your eyes and put a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to swallow anything left in your mouth. You felt spit quickly building up in your mouth. You swallowed it down, hard - allowing yourself to breathe air finally.

Looking at the jug, you barely had drinken anything. But your stomach felt disgusting, as there was bile building up in the back of your throat.

You felt a hand pat your shoulders, as Tecchou leaned over you. His other hand reached for the jug, now moving to set it aside onto the nearby desk. Thank god.

If you looked at that thing you might vomit enough to reach Jouno, who was practically hiding behind the doorframe in disgust.

"Are you ok?" What a stupid fucking question. You straightened your back, trying to compose yourself despite still feeling unease in your body. You managed to push it aside.

"Yea, I'm fine. But that's absolutely revolting, I have to be completely honest with you."

"I'm surprised you haven't managed to vomit yet. You'd get a hundred dollars out of it." Jouno's face was still red from the gagging he himself was doing, so you felt satisfied that you weren't the only one suffering.

"No, I wouldn't want too. Then I'd have to leave the office for a day while they do a carpet cleaning. I'd rather take the 20 dollars." You finally managed to smile, feeling the horrible sensation of bile and evil settle in your stomach. How it was digesting you didn't want to know.

You turned towards Tecchou, smiling as you held your hand out expectantly for your payout.

It was absolutely disgusting but 20 dollars? Was 20 fucking dollars.

He began reaching for his pocket, looking for his wallet, when you felt the uneasiness come back tenfold.

You put a hand over your mouth, and the next thing you knew, felt nothing but that same burning sensation come back out of your throat.

It was disgusting, and you could faintly hear Jouno leaving as you bent over to relieve some of the pain in your stomach.

As quick as it came it left, and you were left looking at a yellow mess over your pants and on Tecchou's shoes. Your chin was dripping wet and all you wanted to do was sit down.

There was a horrible, awkward pause where neither of you said anything to one other.

"You owe me 100 dollars now."

You were hoping to ease the tension, but you still were heaving after that small event.

Tecchou said nothing as he led you over to your desk chair. His face portrayed nothing to the disgust he was probably feeling at having been vomited on, which you really could commend him on. This was definitely not exciting or fun.

"Let's just get cleaned up right now. Do you have any wipes?"

"In the first drawer to the right."

He leaned over, pulling them out. As gently as a man like him could, he started wiping your pants down with them.

"You don't have to do that." You smiled a little, taking a wipe and wiping off the chunks that got on your shirt. You didn't even drink that much, how was it everywhere?

"It's fine, this is my fault. Let me clean it up." He took a new wipe from the box, wiping off your face. His eyes were concentrated as he wiped a little roughly, trying to make sure you were as clean as possible.

This was embarrassing, as well as a little intimate. You couldn't help the blush that spread across your face at how close he was. It felt nice to be taken care of, but really, like this? This was just gross.

"You know your shoes are still dirty, right?"

He looked down at his, sure enough, vomit soaked shoes. He hummed, cleaning them off as well.

"Sorry about that. Didn't think the drink would be that bad."

There was a pause. He stood up, throwing the dirty wipes into trash under your desk. He then turned to you, his face for once showing bashfulness.

"Is it really that bad?" His eyes were a wide, as if embarrassed at the notion that he might have been a little odd. This might really have been his first time noticing it.

You gave him a small smile, standing up alongside him. The calves of your pants were soaked, as well as the bottom half of your shirt. Thank god you were going to leave work after this.

"Yes. Yes it is. But that's a you thing, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You really did mean those words. He was odd to an extreme, but you wouldn't want him to change. You've grown attached to the odd behavior, it almost makes your day sometimes when it doesn't leave you vomiting on your carpet.

He deserved to know that you did in fact, care about him.

Tecchou stared at you, analyzing your face. You stared back, keeping your smile.

This went on for a while before he finally replied.

"Do you want a ride home?" His hand went to the hilt of his sword, thumbing the cold metal.

You simply nodded, following behind him as he walked out of the office. Tomorrow you could deal with it, as for now you just wanted to get home and change, maybe take a nap.

Tecchou giving you your 100 dollars you could also deal with later.

This honestly turned into something else? Idk, it's kinda gross and also NOT the best but I'm bored at work

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

TBB S2 EP 11: Metamorphosis

right from the get go already looks like cliché horror film intro (this initially made me dislike the ep, mainly bc we have too many bad horror films playing at the cinema where I work rn, but dw I came around)

the music was actually chillingly different than usually and continued into the scene in which Dr. Hamlock was introduced. I liked that, but in a bad way

the closeup on his hand confirms that the Zillo Beast ate it, no this is not up for discussion, Zillo Beast had himself a treat

I'm kinda coming around on Nala Se, ngl

Also for as uneasy Dr. Hamlock makes me, I feel like we're finally getting a high-quality villain on TBB and I'm here for it

BAD BATCH TELLING CID OFF BAD BATCH TELLING CID OFF BAD BATCH TELLING CID OFF

HUNTER WANTING TO CUT CID OFF HUNTER WANTING TO CUT CID OFF HUNTER WANTING TO CUT CID OFF

Cid, being a huge dick:

Me:🤨🤨🖕🖕🖕

I like watching Wrecker show off how smart he is. He knows all the weapons and how to use 'em. Yes. :D.

"Whatever did this wasn't human." <- I find that an interesting sentence, considering this is Star Wars. If this was a show that took place on earth, somewhere where it was unlikely for an animal to be, that line would've been chilling. In Star Wars? Not so much. Humans are only one of many species in that galaxy and while I do believe that clones = humans, via star wars lore, that doesn't apply. Clones are classified as their own species, meaning technically they aren't human. I'm probably over thinking this but whatever, the line struck me as oddly placed

"By yourself?" "Your concern is not warranted. I will be fine." <- ok, Tech ik you got the whole cool, logical, I-know-what-I'm-doing-vibe going on, but I gotta tell you, the person who says that in horror films dies first.

OFC THE MEDICAL EQUIPMENT IS KAMINOAN FCK

everytime tech checked what's going on in the hallway I yelled "nO" at him. and then he did it anyway. rude.

The second we first saw it I realised it was the Zillo. I've been wondering when/if it would ever come up again, since the Chancellor did order for it to be cloned when the og episodes aired and then we never saw it again, so the arc felt incomplete.

BUT I LOVED THE ZILLO BEAST ARC SO THIS MADE ME V HAPPY AND V SCARED AND I KNOW IT'S NOT CANON BUT CAN THE ZILLO BEAST PLS GO EAT PALPATINE NOW??? IT DESERVES A TREAT!!!!

Hunter grabbing Omega to protect her from the beast 🥺

Tech's slow "Fascinating." followed by his "Take cover."???? sir u already had me, u didn't need to go harder

Wrecker grabbing Omega to protect her from the explosion🥺

Tech casually causing the explosion

"It ate the crew?" MY POOR BABY

"I can help. I know my way around Kaminoan tech." hmmm omega tryna stay out of the fight? she scared? hmmm Tech whatcha do???

Omega being better with Kaminoan tech than Tech and him just going with it and trusting her expertise. Yes. :D

idk where the "Zillo Beast feeds on energy" thing came from bc that wasn't part of the original arc and kinda threw me off, but alright, they needed a reason for it to grow real fast, I'll take it

they're already fighting the beast and then the empire shows up hhhhhhhh whyyyyyyy

omega just casually pulling the plug on tech's research, I love her

Tech grabbing Omega to protect her from the explosion 2.0 🥺

yes, hello, I'd like to inform you all again that I hate the empire, thank you

Tech allowing Hunter to keep flying even though he is the designated pilot and clearly very skilled. Just shows how much he trusts his leader and brother to keep them save. Love that :))

When the Commandos began rounding up the villagers I immediately knew what it meant and GAH HONSLTY WHY ARE THEY LIKE THIS

The Empire only destroyed Kamino to control cloning, not to end it, hm? surprise surprise (these fcking motherfckers i swear)

"Send the data to Echo and Rex. See what they can find out."

....

........

............

YES HUNTER YES SEND THEM THE DATA YES GO WORK WITH ECHO AND REX AND SAVE THE GALAXY YES LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

end of the ep confirms yet again that Dr. Hamlock is a bag of dicks :)

Prime Minister said f you and I'm here for it

and then he brought up Omega and I was not here for it anymore

finally the music during the last shot makes me think that this facility is going to come up again and it will likely be very traumatic and horrible and terrible and um ya. sucks man.

gonna tag @jealous-sloth77 and @saturn-sends-hugs bc I'd love to see their thoughts too :))

[beautifulpersonpeach]

I love your insights cause you seem like you have the wisdom of an 90 year old. Do you have any advice for a 30 something yo woman that struggles with deep anxiety and sadness even in *happy* times? (I was depressed when I started dating, than I was scared when I got engaged, I was so anxious to do a wedding that I didn't do anything me and my partner skipped right to planning a honeymoon trip, the next stage is having kids and i'm so scared). I don't want to go through life being sad over things that i want and should bring joy (because I do want them. It's just every little change for some reason gives me panic and nobody around me seem to get why even my husband..I have no clue why i'm so sensitive to changes and decision making) and the circle seem to be never ending..I did therapy and talked a lot with a therapist and i'm better, but the emotions and inner sadness still there. Sorry if it's too much info..I guess i'm hoping other women/girls/guys reading this might feel similar in life and have ways of coping? I feel like i'm the only person on the planet feeling like this and i'm scared admitting it to others (I share with them..but they don't really *see* the heavy-crying-vomit-feeling every second of the day so in the end it's just me)

***

Hi Anon 💜

What I can say to you is limited by how personal your ask is, how little I know about you and the subject (I really wouldn’t call myself wise), and how public my forum is. There’s undoubtedly a lot more you’re not saying (understandably), but I’ll try not to ramble in telling you what I think.

The fact you’re asking me this here despite already seeing someone far more qualified to give you advice (your therapist), tells me this is something that’s constantly on your mind, something that weighs on you so much you’d consider a random blogger’s opinion and that of her followers.

So I guess the first question is:

Why are you afraid?

Because that’s what anxiety essentially is. In my layman, unqualified BPP language, anxiety is being in a state of fear. And there's two reasons people could be afraid:

A good reason.

A not good reason.

And you get to decide which is which for you. Personally, the events you're describing sound like life-changing events, things with pretty profound implications not just for you but for people around you. And rather than see your fear about it as a malaise, I see it as perhaps a mild overreaction to recognizing the enormity of the implications.

But there could be more to it...

A - Sometimes, people experience something that legitimately warranted that state of fear in them, a traumatic or abusive event where fear was the only right response, an event (or series of events) that left an imprint on them. And their bodies and minds are subconsciously stuck in that state, and this could be for a whole host of reasons. This is also something that can lead to a lot of behaviours, like being afraid of change, constantly seeking comfort in what’s known and familiar, and fearing the unknown. In cases like this, psychotropic medication can help; as can therapy; journaling can help your mind work through your thoughts, help you remain present and not dissociate; improving your physical health to help your body recalibrate, etc.

B - Other times, this state is triggered by a purely physiological response and this can be due to an imbalance in your baseline. Meaning, (I’m sure the medical debate is still out on this one but) I think most people have a sort of physiological baseline for things like hormone levels (dopamine mostly), that’s oftentimes tied to several factors but including, notably, genetics. As an example, it’s been observed that people from tropical countries (or with recent ancestry including people from tropical countries) have a higher chance of suffering Seasonal Affective Disorder in winter months (so obviously after moving from tropical climates) than the general population. Meaning their genetic composition has a baseline that expects higher vitamin D levels, more natural sunlight etc, than the general population, and in the absence of these things, their bodies (and mental states) struggle to adjust without supplemental help. Supplemental help can look like vitamins, adjusting your diet to gain more of those nutrients/vitamins, nature lamps, spending more time outdoors. and in more drastic cases reconfiguring your work life to be more in-line with natural sunlight cycles.

It’s one reason frequent physical exercise helps the mental states so much for most people. How picking up a sport (like running or yoga) or spending time in the gym consistently improves mental health, helps them feel more confident and assured. Aside from the beneficial facts we all know, the reality is the sedentary lifestyle most people enjoy in the 21st century is an anomaly. Our bodies have evolved over millions of years in a way that required physical endurance, strength training, and constant movement to do very basic things: from eating, to hygiene, to even sleeping in a safe environment. I mean, the very act of washing your clothes required far more physical exertion until the invention of the washing machine in the 19th century. Cooking was a far more arduous exercise than putting something in the microwave, building heights were limited by how much people could walk and climb until we had escalators and elevators in the last century doing the work for us. Most of us are living in bodies that have a collective memory of doing far more work just to survive everyday life, that’s our physiological baseline, and yet we’re living in the most sedentary societies ever. That causes a physiological imbalance, and some people are more sensitive to that imbalance than others. The anxiety could be a signal that your body and mind recognize something is wrong or out of whack. One solution here is ratcheting up your physical movement, endurance, and strength, and typically that will help your body regulate the rest so long as you’re consistent.

C - Yet another reason some people remain in a state of fear, is that rather than a physiological imbalance being the culprit, it’s an imbalance in their sense of self. This is a bit more sensitive for me to get into, given I really don’t know you and I don’t want to hurt you unduly, but you’ve listed all these things you have going on for you in your life… are they things you actually want? What is it about your current state that terrifies you? Is there something about what you tell yourself internally or privately that you struggle to live out loud? Do you feel like you should be somewhere else, doing something else, being someone else? Do you feel like you’ve actively chosen the life you have or do you feel like a passenger in your own life watching things happen to you?

Is there any consistency between your inner beliefs, values, and desires vs your outward actions and reality? Or is there dissonance? Because what dissonance can do, is trigger the signal that something is wrong and leave you paralyzed in a state of fear if you believe you have no tools to reverse course or power through. If any of these are true for you, there’s no shortcut to reaching a solution. You have to ask yourself why you feel this way. Is there another life or another person you’re comparing to? Are there societal expectations on you that are restrictive? You'll have to decide for yourself what living with personal integrity means for you, finding a way that aligns your inner beliefs (assuming its not rooted in trauma - see A) with your outward reality.

*

Like I said above, there's two reasons one could be afraid. For good reasons, it's best to honour that fear and do what is right and safe for you. And for not good reasons, the only solution is to power through that fear, over and over again. The more afraid you feel, the more you do it. You can choose to throw yourself into it, or seek support for ways to do that safely.

If perhaps you don't feel ready to have a baby you want because you feel inexperienced, lack the resources to fully care for the child, have misgivings about your partner etc, I’m going to go out on a limb here, and be prescriptive. I’m sorry in advance if this is pushing it. But I'd say these are good reasons to be afraid. I'd suggest you communicate these reasons to someone you trust (a therapist and perhaps someone you know), spend a bit more time in preparing financially because kids aren't cheap, invest in building your social support circle (this could include relatives and friends), start actively planning for your life with a new person in it, and this can include finding people who can support you even if your partner isn't in the picture for whatever reason.

If the reason you're hesitating to have a baby you want is because you fear the unknown, I'd again go out on a limb to say I don't believe this is a good reason. In this case, what you choose to do is up to you, but I suggest you embrace the adventure (after preparing as much as you can).

Recognize your fear, assess if it's for the right reasons and if so honour it, and adjust accordingly. If it's not for the right reasons, power through it to do what you actually want.

I rambled again but I wish you all the luck, Anon. 💜

[safetycar-restart]

That's when Charles sees that he's giving you a belly bulge, and somehow he's never noticed that before? He whines even louder, crying out and letting out constant little whimpers afterward because his little mind can't handle that.

"Bunny?" you ask, slowing down and frowning. Neither you nor Pierre did anything to warrant that reaction, so you're confused.

In response, Charles takes your hand and puts it over your tummy, "Can see..." he mumbles, "can... can see..."

You realise what he's saying and smile, "Yeah, bunny. That's you."

JUST READ THIS ASK AND OH MY FUCKING GOOOOODDDD??????????? THIS ALTERED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY I'M SICK IN THE HEAD

i have NEVER thought of CHARLES being the one giving YOU the belly bulge but!??!?!?!? FEED ME MOTHER

personally, in my sick little head, i believe charles has a big dick. yes. not anything out of the ordinary, but it's big! big enough so you can see the outline of his cock when he fucks you! i feel that charles didn't expect this either, because it's usually you or pierre being the ones fucking his brains out, so he is taken by suprise and his little mind is discombobulated. it's more the angle (unless...) but still, he feels so special knowing that he's the only one who gets to do this (along with pierre).

probably the first time he sees it, he lets out the most SINFUL moan you've ever heard leave his mouth (why can i imagine it i need medical attention 😭😭), and after that it's just huffs and whines, he can't take his eyes off of it.

you notice that, and when you call out for him, his shaky little hand comes up to take yours, his touch so soft, as he puts your hand over the bulge in your tummy, barely holding onto your hand with his head thrown back, mouth agape and his eyes shut. he somehow manages to mutter out a "mama... can feel... can see i- oh- i ca-", you cut him off to spare him the trouble and simply reply "yeah, bunny, that's you. you feel that? only my good little bunny makes me feel like that" (ofc pierre is not offended). charles weakly smiles at you and his dimples show before he's chasing your lips and seeking kisses, as he gets fucked into oblivion by his mommy and his pierre <3.

- 📓

I should have known that ask would summon you. Sometimes I write something and then I'm literally like '📓 anon would love this'. But anyway, these thoughts are so good!!!

Firstly, I also think Charles's has a pretty big dick. I think he's longer than average? As opposed to Pierre who is thicker than normal.

Anyway, yeah Charles's little mind explodes when he sees that. He just doesnt know how to process that he's seeing his cock in his mommy's tummy. That's... that his cock?? In mommy?? He's losing it.

He absolutely moans out loud when he sees it. The mere thought wrecks him, so to see it? No more bunny.

Of course he has to show you this. But he has no idea how to express it, because he's being fucked and you're sitting on his cock. So how on earth can he be expected to make a full sentence?

He takes your hand and puts it on your tummy, spluttering and whining and babbling about how he can see himself there. You understand what he means and smile, telling him that he's fucking you so good.

Of course the praise only serves to further wreck your bunny.

I also think you show Pierre? You take pierre's hand and put it on your tummy, letting him feel it and Pierre curses in French, mind melting at the fact that he's feeling bunny's cock inside you.

[fossegrimmen]

The Medic & The Big Pissy Cat

Pairing: Olivier "Lion" Flament x Håvard "Ace" Haugland

Fandom: Rainbow Six

Description: Ace finally gets to show of his medical skills off.

Note: This is my first fanfic, so constructive criticism is wanted. Enjoy

--

If Olivier’s life could get any worse, first he gets punched in the face by Thatcher. Now he has to wait in the sick-bay waiting for a medic to give him the all clear. Olivier, really wasn’t looking forward to having Kateb give him a lecture on how his words to their British counterpart were brash and arrogant. 

“You know what Flament, if you wanted my attention all you had to do was ask.” The Norwegian accent pierced the almost silent room.

“Haugland, I am not in the mood to deal with your theatrics, so how about you get Kateb and get me out of this fucking sick-bay.” Olivier demanded. 

“Fine. Have it your way. Oh and by the way the Doc ain’t examining your injuries, I am.” Håvard grinned as he spoke. 

As Håvard rolled his chair over the laminated floor, to become face-to-face with Olivier. 

“Olivier, can you tell what month it is?”

“Really?” Olivier began questioning the Norwegian’s practices. Håvard just stared back at him, egging him to respond to his question. 

“The month is September, are you happy now?” 

“Yes and can you tell me what the date is today?” Håvard once again asking with a softer expression

“It is the 21st” 

“What year is it?” 

“2020”

“Look straight ahead and keep your head still, please.” Then a light flashed into Oliver’s eyes. “Merde, you didn’t need to flash me you know.” However, Håvard didn’t reply and just kept inspecting Olivier’s face. 

As Håvard was inspecting the injuries on Olivier's face, Olivier noticed the change of expression from one of fun to one of concentration in a matter of seconds. This got Olivier thinking, how does Håvard just change with a flip of a switch. Like yes, every operator has a professional side to them, yet there is something different in Håvard, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.  Olivier’s thought process was interrupted with Håvard breaking the silence once again. 

“Well, good news, you don’t have a concussion. The cuts aren’t that bad either, well not bad enough to warrant the use of regular stitches, so I am gonna clean the wounds, put a steri-strip on and then you are free to go. Okay.” 

“Whatever you say Haugland, the quicker the better.” Olivier quipped back with impatience. Håvard rolled his eyes, as he moved to retrieve equipment needed for the quick procedure.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what made Thatcher, you know, hit you in the face?” Håvard asked while motioning the punch. Olivier gave Håvard a questioning look, but decided it would be better to answer the Norwegian, than to leave it in the air. 

“All you need to know is that I said something and the old man didn’t like it and the rest lead to me being stuck here with you.” As Olivier was talking about the incident, Håvard began cleaning and patching up the wound. 

Olivier once again began studying Håvard’s face, as the plaster was being placed on the cut. Olivier started to notice, little things, like pale freckles littered across his face. Or how when he concentrates, Håvard tilts his head to an angle. Once again Olivier was ripped out of his thoughts with the sharp movement of Håvard snapping his head back into position. 

“No wonder why Gustave didn't want to assess your injuries, you can’t seem to stop moving your head.” Håvard stated as he rolled away from Olivier’s proximity to the desk. The clipping of keys filled the crisp sterile air. 

“Anyways, Flament. You are all patched up now and cleared for duty. So you are free to leave, unless you have any other questions for me?” Håvard questioned. 

“My Hero”, Olivier stated sarcastically, further adding on “who knows i might even give you a five stars on your yelp page.” As Olivier moved towards the door as he was chuckling to himself, Håvard once again interrupted. 

“Yelp page? I don’t have yelp? Should I make a yelp?, Flament, what is yelp?” Håvard going into overdrive into branching out onto a new media page. 

“Relax, Haugland, it is just a joke. Please take my advice, DON’T MAKE A YELP PAGE.” 

“Okay I will take your advice, if you take some advice from me.” Olivier nodded in agreement. 

“Just be careful with our teammates, especially those who can knock you out. I rather not carry your ass back to base.” The worried look hidden behind the joyful gleam in Håvard’s eyes said it all. 

“Who knows, Hero, I might take you up on that advice.” 

And with that Olivier left the medical sector of Rainbow, with a smile and small plaster on his face.

--

Sidenote: Yes I do know that the Thatcher incident technically happened before Ace join Team Rainbow. But lets just pretend it happened in the same year as Ace joining.

[bitchapalooza]

I don't really get this:

So my parents, mainly my mom, will talk nice and be all friendly with a person. She'd look like she's getting along well with them. But then next thing I know, she's shit talking them behind their back. Calling them a bitch. Pointing out their weight even in various rude synonyms. She even she doesn't like them, but continues to play nice with them the next time she sees them. My dad mainly just pulls this customer service bit with them, you can kinda tell if his niceness is genuine or not. He doesn't normally shittalk, but when he does it's instigated by mom.

For example, an old coworker of mine was a young mom. Just young in general. About my age, i think a year or two older than me. But she and my mom got along pretty well. But the shit talking didn't really start until she, the coworker, started to kind of go off? Like, she changed pretty much. Now I assumed it was because of the new medication she talked about and how she was struggling with the side effects and getting used to it. Sometimes medication can really fuck with a person. But mom immediately went to "she's psycho and immature". And then it escalated to mom teaming up with my other coworker by reporting her tiktok account and videos to our boss, literally sitting there and going through her account like it was a daily chore and sending the link to our boss— we aren't supposed to take photos or videos and post them when at work and especially when in uniform, it is company policy and we were warned of the consequences. Mom is just talking so much worse about her at this point, and I couldn't understand WHY. I knew she was breaking the rules, I just didn't get why mom was making it a point to get her fired. In the end, i agree that yeah she did need to kind of leave, she was being a shitty person by blowing her step dad's cancer out of proportion and very likely taking the donations for herself(it was suspicious how she could afford hundreds of dollars on pokemon cards when she had rent and child support to pay and then claim to barely have enough left over from her check alone for groceries). But in the long run, I still fail to see how the talking behind her back while playing nice with her and then basically witch hunting her(am I using that right??) was warranted. I see this with a lot of very controlling people, which my mom often is and my coworker especially is, but still. Wtf.

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

objectively speaking

if we arrange me and the adversary on a chinese checker board

fuck checkers and chess it's too black and white and red

if I'm going to organize my thoughts then you better have

at least five different colors of highlighters or something

just be glad I'm not asking for watercolor pencils or glitter pens

beauty is something that allows the mind to calm

it's literally nature and the way the universe works

the more attractive something is the more it attracts

if it's attractive in a positive way it attracts positive things

if it's attractive in a negative way it attracts negative things

your free will is the wild card and some of us forget how to use it

though if you're punished enough for thinking differently

you learn how to suppress your authenticity well enough

to fool even yourself into forming a new identity

I actually don't like to see people suffering

not even my enemies except when I'm mad

but after I let myself be mad about it then things cool down

I think at some point I forgot to let myself be mad

it didn't seem to help anything and only made things worse

it takes a lot of energy to forget to be mad

daddy stop hurting mommy

mommy don't be mad

this is the message I have received my entire life

don't be mad that I'm hurting you

and to have my three year old say it so many times

it must have turned me back into a winter soldier

it doesn't go away all that anger

no matter how fresh or old it is

when I am forced to look at that old anger

and why it makes me angry

to understand some present patterns

it makes me so fucking tired

what happens in a sauna when you pour water

over those burning embers in a small room

the room fills with steam and it makes you so tired

just sucks the energy right out of you

that's how it feels when I finally feel contempt

it's like now you made me tired

and I'm gonna make you tired too

now I have to match your energy

now I have to really look at things

and see just how much you fucked me over

and let you face every fucking consequence

of your immature and incompetent actions

just because you didn't want to admit

that your parents emotionally neglected you

and the rub is that they were cycle breakers

just like me so they actually did a great job

considering what they were working with

also I think you secretly know I'd be better at your job

than you are and I didn't even graduate with my masters

funny because when I tried you used to go into rages

and yell at me while I sat there literally

with my head on my desk cowering

just waiting for it to be over

or threatened to use vyvanse fatally

which scared the shit out of me

and I yelled at you too

I yelled at you and I fucking scared you

but it was in the face of you harming the emotions of my kids

and it's also because you're terrified of women

wonder why that is?

frankly you're terrified of everyone

I'm glad you're back on your medication

it's been a fucking shitshow since you got off it

but when I brought that up you just told me

I was the one with problems and not to control you

"I wish he was still the same as before", my oldest said

as I joined him on the front steps under the moon

I knew he was outside because he was overstimulated

and overwhelmed because we both live in an

environment where we can't do anything

but warrant some negative opinion from you

I'm glad you don't do it to the others

but that's a shitty thing to be thankful for

my oldest son doesn't feel safe enough to enjoy

a family dinner or anything around you

and I only know I feel the same because of watching him

because I've numbed myself to the dysfunction

and as I was thinking about what broke my heart last year

like what the actual straw that broke the camel's back was

I realized... it wasn't you or losing my parents

which I thought it was and I was pissed about that

it was losing all those rabbits and the rabbit business

I wanted to build and worked tirelessly for

literally bled for and grieved for

only to have you come home and tell me

I wasn't keeping the house clean enough

while I was teaching my kids how to enjoy

animal husbandry and archery and music all summer

so fuck you and everything you stand for

what truly broke me was losing all those rabbits

it's those rabbits I miss when I'm saddest

you didn't finally break my heart

it was the loss of my bunnies

and I don't know why

but that helps me so much lol

[shadow-singer123]

Guys this is a reaaaally long rant, read if you will. God help me I did Not pull any punches. Note: this is Not proof read, I assume there are some serious grammatical and spelling errors in here (sorry 'bout that)

When you're younger no one really tells you any details about your period, at least that was my experience, any information was vague, there was no 'this is happening because of this, these are some things that could happen, and they're completely normal. But here are some things that aren't normal that you'd want to go to the doctor for' it was just 'you will bleed for about a week once a month for most of the rest of your life, your period will become regular in a little while, you might get mood swings' and idk about you guys, but that's not good enough, I, as a child, deserved to know the details about what was going to happen, not vague shit like this. And I get that teaching 11 and 12 year old about menstruation and puberty is not the most comfortable or easy thing you will ever do in your life, but its so much better to tell the kids exactly what happens and why it happens. For the first six years that I had my period, it came at random times each month, I was worried there was something wrong because no one told me 'hey, your period will take a few years to come at the same time each month' ,

Around that time I had a Severe iron deficiency. Severe like I struggled to physically lift myself up in the mornings, I was shaking, my vision was tunnelling in class, I actually could not understand what the sentences on the board meant (I could read the words, I knew what they meant individually, but I could not on my mothers grave figure out what the sentence meant). I didn't actually realise there was something wrong, that was just life. Didn't help that my teacher was shit and gave me some trauma that took years to get through. Thankfully my mom took me to get my blood tested, I was nearly anaemic, I was so close to that and I can't even. (this was caused by heavy periods btw, it sounds random and out of context but I swear there's a point)

When I did get my period it was heavy, going through multiple night pads a day, and I had intense cramps. Long story short it took four years for me to realise that that amount of pain was Not Normal and I went to the doctor, my choices were going on a hormonal birth control pill (at 14 that is bullshit) or taking this other thing that I don't know what its called that was made specifically for reducing heavy bleeding and cramps. As much as I am so grateful it exists and I live in a place where pads and tampons and pain medication is so easily accessible, I still find myself outraged that there is not more research into menstruation and its side effects (PMS, cramps, comment more etc.) and even just female health in general. Whenever I go to search up why the fuck I get such extreme mood swings and There Is Nothing, I could not find a single research paper, study, investigation, experiment on PMS, Nothing At All. And it pisses me off, we are such a huge part of this society, and yet we are still not enough of a priority to warrant even the most basic medical studies into things that severely impact the Majority of the female population. And I don't know, but I just feel so defeated when I think about all the papers and studies on any single thing men go through, they can find what's happening to them no matter what, so rarely do they have to go digging through even the second page on google to find whats happening to their body, and the best I can get are other women sharing their experience (and I Love them, but where is the professional research?) and how they deal with it. Men just say, oh calm down, you're being dramatic, it's just hormonal changes in the brain, we don't know any more than this because we can't be bothered. We as women have been trained to accept intense pain and being pushed aside as a part of life that is inescapable, and men have been trained to reenforce this shit, it's not necessarily their fault -there are So Many factors that go into all of this, and playing the blame game doesn't work- but I just can't. I wish I could be the woman that gets a whole PHD and does ground breaking studies into women's bodies and all the things that men never bothered to research -because we didn't tell them, and when we did they didn't believe us- but I'm not and as stupid as it sounds that breaks my heart, because I will never be that person, but I hope to God that someone is because I hate living in a world that does not know what's happening to me and so many other women, that doesn't care about us.

My Lord there are so many other things I want to write about, but I don't want to post something that absolutely no one will read. Here are some more issues and other shit:

the fact the pads were never tested with blood

the extreme options placed on expecting mothers

the severe lack of support for new parents

the push for abortion to be the cure-all for anything baby related when so many women have come out traumatised and regretting it

the people who are putting women against each other

rape and sexual assault

porn

the fashion industry sexualising children and everyone somehow being ok with it

Trans-women, because no matter what anyone says we do need to talk about this, it is not black and white as some people would make it out to be

Religious women being persecuted and looked down upon for deciding to be modest, the automatic assumption that we are forced to cover up

Religious extremest parents raising their children with perverted and exaggerated beliefs about the part women and men ought to play.

the judgement on mothers that decide to quit their job to raise their children and take care of their family

the judgement on mothers that decide to go back to work after having a kid

People attacking families who decide to keep traditional gender rolls in their household.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Palliate.

Pairing: Yandere!Witch/Reader.

Word Count: 3.7k.

TW: Emotional Manipulation, Amnesia, Obsessive Mindsets, Mentions of Violence, Blood and Bruising, Mentions of Death.

Mint, to settle your nerves.

That was the first thing he’d taught you, before you were strong enough to do anything more than sit on the edge of your bed and listen. Three leaves if you were desperate, two if you weren’t, and one if you just needed something to focus on, to take your mind off your own hazy thoughts and the places they tended to lead, when you let them wander freely. He said that was normal, that it should be expected. You’d spent so long incapacitated, it was only natural you’d be a little unsteady, once you finally got back on your feet. He said that it’d get better, over time, but you’d have to fight through it. You’d have to give yourself time to let it get better, even if there were little things you both could do to help.

The mint helped. Most of the time, at least. More than most little things did.

You tried to concentrate on the flavor, now, letting it distract you from the sun beating down on the back of your neck, from small bruises forming on your knees as you kneeled between rows of rue and sage and rosemary just far enough apart to let you tug at the weeds invading his otherwise pristine garden. It was a little odd to be outside the small cottage you’d become so closely acquainted with, even if you were only a few paces away, still hesitant to venture beyond the clearing you’d spent so much time observing while you were bedridden. You were still injured, technically, and you’d been told time and time again not to test your own limits. He said you should… You were sure you should be doing something, but—

“Didn't I ask you to rest?”

Right. That made sense.

You weren't supposed to get out of bed, just yet.

A hand came to settle on your shoulder, and reflexively, you glanced towards the man now lingering behind you. You really didn’t need to, though. His voice would’ve been enough, a calm drawl strung out into something playful, fondness coming easily and anger still a long ways off. He’d never gotten mad at you before, but the threat persisted. You didn’t want to be more of a nuisance than absolutely necessary, especially after he’d been so kind to you.

“There’s only so much sleep I can take,” You replied. You didn’t want to be a nuisance, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life in bed, either. “I’m starting to think that’s your only trick, uh...”

“Eden, love. Just Eden.” There was a pause, his sly smile turning sympathetic. “Is your memory acting up again?”

“It’s not as bad as it used to be.” You were telling the truth. For weeks, you’d barely been able to hold onto your own name, let alone anything about your eternally patient host. But, Eden (you tried to remind yourself of that, to make a note of it, Eden) was kind enough to give you time. You needed time. You needed patience. “I found the door, didn’t I?”

“And it’s nearly been a week since the last time you wandered into the forest,” He noted as he crouched at your side, earning a small, offended noise and an elbow to his bicep, just forceful enough to warrant a hum, a slight pout, something between a whine and a chuckle. You didn’t want to stare, but you let yourself watch as his expression softened, as his gazed flickered towards the sprout of basil at your feet and a shock of white hair fell over his eyes. He looked like he was going to reach towards you, like he was going to touch you, but he stopped himself, letting his hand slip down to the satchel at his waist, instead, calloused fingers running over the well-worn leather.

You wondered what he kept in it, sometimes. You’d never seen him without it, not willingly, and he spent so long in the forest every day, he kept himself so busy with so many traps and snares and spots of ink littered across hand-drawn maps, it would’ve been impossibly to guess what he thought was worth keeping by his side. He brought enough of it back, bundles of assorted feathers and glass jars full of golden pollen and other things, stranger things, things you could barely catch a glimpse of before they were shoved to the backs of cabinets and forgotten about, on your end, at least. Eden didn’t forget about such important things as quickly as you did.

“It’ll get better,” He went on, finally, just when you thought he’d stopped talking altogether. “And, if it doesn’t, we’ll find a way to make it better.”

He sounded so sure of himself. You wanted to believe him, when he sounded like that. You did believe him.

You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t.

~

Ginger, to alleviate migraines.

It wasn’t for you, luckily. Of all the ailments you suffered from, you’d been left mercifully exempt from headaches and vertigo and all those minor, awful things that would make your life just a little harder than it had to be. If anything, your head was always a little too light, a little too empty, especially after so many hours of following the same unpaved road with nothing to think about but the passing scenery and Eden’s vague instructions, little more than a list of names and goods. Little to go off of, despite his insistence that you be the one to go.

You’d asked why he didn’t just go himself the first time he sent you on your way with a basket of herbs and roots, but Eden had only frowned, shaking his head. He said he wasn’t welcome, not in the marketplace, not in a village that’d already come to know him by name. He said that, if you cared for him at all, you wouldn’t subject him to a full day of haggling in hushed tones with women who refuse to sell mediocre incense for anything less than a small fortune.

And since you did (foolishly) care for him, you went. Not that you were anymore wanted in the marketplace than he was.

You hated it, compared to the cozy isolation of Eden’s home. You hated how crowded it was, how alien it felt to have to navigate the cramped stalls, how the merchant in front of you scowled as he weighed small bags of the exotic, colorful spices Eden was so fond of, the ones that you could never seem to taste the way you were supposed to, judgingly by how liberally Eden used them. He didn’t try to hide the disdain in his voice as he spoke, aged weariness mixed with a self-righteous reluctant. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t used to it, that constant trepidation from people who didn't understand you, from people who didn't care for Eden. At least he was kind enough not to hide it. “Running errands for the witch hermit, again?”

“Eden’s not a hermit.” You tried to smile, to brush it off as if was just another misconception. He wasn’t. You weren’t sure what he was, but he liked people, he liked having someone else around. Or, he liked having you around, at least. He didn’t seem to care much about company, beyond that. “He just enjoys his privacy. We both do.”

“Only a witch, then.” There was a pause, a gruff laugh that didn’t match his grim disposition. Something in the back of your throat tightened, and silently, you wished he’d be a bit more wary of you. Just enough to keep him from speaking so openly. “I’d take what you can and go, if I were you. He takes after his father, and that man spent his whole life makin’ a monster of himself, playing with things no one should. His son ain’t much different.”

It was your turn to laugh, now. “He cries whenever he finds fawns separated from their mothers. He takes in tadpoles he finds puddles. I don’t think Eden is capable of cruelty.” He was a kind man. You’d never seen him be anything but kind. If he had an ulterior motive, if he had a single sadistic bone in his body, you had yet to find it. “He took me in, too, when I was injured. He might be the only reason I have a roof over my head, now. That’s not a kindness I can say very many people have showed me.”

His lips pursed, the barest hints of confusion crossing his expression. It was gone in an instant, and you tried not to linger on it. He thought poorly of Eden, but the mere fact that you were alive – walking and breathing and alive – was enough to earn him your gratitude. Regardless of what a merchant and a marketplace worth of gossip thought. You knew what you believed, you knew what was true, and you wouldn’t let a few rumors convince you otherwise.

Although, you’d be lying if you said that belief didn’t waver, as he went on. “Cruelty isn’t all you have to worry about.”

You opened your mouth. Then, you closed it again, keeping your eyes on the basket still hanging limply on your arm. He wasn’t done yet, not with the spices, not with his poorly veiled warnings, but you didn’t want to listen. You could listen, you would listen, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to believe anything you heard in such a crowded place, in such an awful place.

You just wanted to get back to Eden.

~

Willow bark, to take the pain away.

It’s more of a comfort than a necessity, by now. You used to need it, rely on it, and you still liked to keep a bundle nearby, just in case, for days where the soreness was worse than it should be and you needed something to take the edge off, to suppress that overwhelming ache back into a steady throb. But, you never needed it, not like you used to. Not like you had when your injury was a defining feature rather than an afterthought and Eden’s medical expertise was more of a experimental artform than a practiced skill.

His hands didn’t shake, anymore, as his fingers skirted over your bare skin, following along the outline of your wound, the trail of stitches that stretched from the bottom of your shoulder bone to the center of your rib cage and repeated itself, carrying over again and again and again, forming neat rows of tender flesh and scar tissue that refused to stop any higher than your hip bone. He wasn’t hesitant, not with the needle, not as he pushed it through the long-suffering spots where he’d first messily laid your stitches months ago, and he didn’t have to look at you to recognize the way you shifted, the soft string of expletives you let out, to notice your little attempts to turn your head at just the right angle, flinch at just the right time to—

“Eyes on the ceiling,” He demanded. With a small huff, you obeyed, turning back towards the furthest wall. “It’ll only get worse, if you look.”

You knew that. He’d said as much as thousand times before, once for every day he'd tended to your lasting wounds. You were tempted to try, to insist it was only fair that you got to know what was going on with your own body, but you trusted Eden, and it was easier to tilt your head back than to argue, to search the cluttered room for something more interesting than the boy sitting at your side and your own, nagging discomfort.

You were in his workshop, now, an area separated from the rest of the cottage and filled to the brim with the tools of Eden’s trade – blooming flowers permanently encased in blocks of amber, the shells of insects hollowed out and ground into a fine powder, pots, everywhere, some empty and some not, the largest placed over a smoldering hearth that never seemed to grow dimmer, despite how often Eden forgot to tend to it. There was something inside, a substance you didn’t recognize, bubbling and black as a starless sky. It was already solidifying around the edges of its cauldron, crystallizing into rows of jagged, silvery edges slowly creeping along the coaction's surface like an infection. Like a parasite. Like something that shouldn’t have existed but continued to, regardless.

Eden must’ve caught you staring. The needle stilled, and instead, he took to dabbing something cool and smooth around the edges of your scars. A rag, or a balm, or a dozen other possible remedies. You didn't try to look. “It’s for you,” He explained, as if that made it any better. “One of my father’s incomplete recipes. He never figured out how to stop it from hardening once it’s exposed to open air.” Eden clicked his tongue, pulling the thread he was working with taut, and you cringed, tying to ignore the slight pinch. It didn’t hurt, not really, not like it used to. It didn’t hurt at all, if you were being honest, but it felt like it should’ve. “The color isn’t right, either. And I’ve already fed enough dye into the damn thing to poison a small village.”

You should’ve laughed. You wanted to, you knew it was the reaction he was looking for, but it was all you could do to avert your stare, to let your fingers curl around the edge of the table he’d perched you on. "They really don’t like you.”

“I’ve noticed.” A blunt response, not abrasive, but not encouraging, either. Not as dismissive as you would’ve preferred. “And yet, they manage to stomach my cures regardless. It’s funny how quickly pain softens the heart, isn’t it?”

“They say it’s unnatural.” You were pushing, now. You should know better than to push. You never found out anything good, when you tried to push. “They say your father used to dabble in things that shouldn’t be.”

Eden sighed, pushing himself to his feet. There was a short silence, interrupted only by the sound of glass knocking against glass before he dropped what he was holding, stepping in front of you and cupping your face with both hands, instead, forcing you to face him, to meet his dark eyes. Black eyes. Lightless eyes. A contradiction when compared his tanned skin and warm smile. A contradiction you tried to overlook as he bent down, kissing the top of your head so gently, you could almost bring yourself to ignore it altogether.

“My father was a toymaker and a healer. My mother died in childbirth. He did what he could to take care of me, and there is nothing unnatural about that.” He took a moment to laugh, to hold you, and you couldn’t be help but be thankful for it. Only weeks ago, he’d been afraid to touch you, afraid to watch you break all over again. Now, it was all he could do to let you go long enough for his arms to fall to your waist, for your face to find his chest, his tunic, a place to hide yourself away from the rest of the world. You didn’t want to go back, not to the village, not to the marketplace, not to the lonely, hurtful, desolate world outside his cottage. You didn’t want to go back to a place filled with so many people so determined to separate you from Eden. You didn’t want to return to a life you couldn’t remember, one where you wouldn’t have the man who’d saved you by your side. “He loved his family, just as I love you.”

For once, you didn’t have to convince yourself to believe him.

~

Witch hazel, to stop the bleeding.

You’d need it. You’d need a lot of it, more than you should for such a small cut, a jagged line drawn from the corner of your eye to your opposite check, thin but deep and bleeding, pouring out, washing over your hands as you tried to clutch at your face and rub away the damage, like a child trying to blink away a bad dream. Your legs might’ve been bleeding, too, the sides of your ankles, the backs of your thighs, your skin scraped raw in all the places you’d hit the ground as you tripped, falling over your own feet at your stumbled backward, but you didn’t check, you didn’t want to check, you didn’t want to see how bad it was. You didn’t want to take your eyes off the man in front of you, his towering stature, his grim expression.

His sword, silver and unsheathed and pointed at your heart, as it had been from the moment he first caught sight of you.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was supposed to be here, in Eden’s forest, only minutes away from the cottage you’d come to think of as your safe haven. He hadn’t asked for your name, he hadn’t mentioned Eden, he hadn’t said a word to you, not before there was a dagger flashing across your line of sight, a weapon quickly discarded for something more intimidating, something that’d let him stay at arm’s length while he approached you, his stare holding yours, his lips pulled into a thin frown. “I—” You tried, but your voice gave out quickly. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had threatened your life. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so scared. “Please, I didn’t mean to get in your—”

“Stop talking.” His tone was flat, apathetic, the barest hints of rage seeping through a weathered veil of neutrality. Immediately, you fell silent. “Who said you had the right to use that voice?”

You opened your mouth, but you thought better of it, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you bowed your head. You wanted to get back to Eden, back to his cottage. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You wanted to run, but you wanted to get out of this with your head on your shoulders, too. “Are you going to kill me?”

“It will not be a true death.” There was a pause, a reluctant hesitation. You pulled your knees into your chest, your hand still pressed to your wound, but the gesture didn’t seem to earn you any pity. “But, I am going to make this—”

He stopped, abruptly, his head attention towards something behind you. You heard it a moment later – measured footsteps, barely making a sound against the dead leaves and branches that littered the forest floor. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to.

Not when there was only one person who’d ever bother to save you.

“Adam,” Eden called, already positioning himself at your side. His hand was already on his satchel, toying with the buckle. Like he’d done this, before. Like he already knew it wouldn’t resolve itself peacefully. “There are easier ways to introduce yourself. If you put that sword away, I’m sure (Y/n) could still find a way to forgive—”

“Do not call it by that name.” He was focused on Eden, now, leaving you to fade into the background, to observe as his hands began to shake and he glared, baring his teeth, as Eden had done more than try to play peacekeeper. “That is not (Y/n). It doesn’t deserve to pretend it is, none of your abominations do. It won't bring— It can't—” He trailed off, his sword falling back to his side, his eyes clenching shut. You almost felt bad for him, your would-be murderer, but Eden’s expression remained cold, unbothered. Slowly, almost idly, he reached down, taking you by the arm and helping you to your feet, letting you tuck yourself against him as Adam finally found his voice.

“(Y/n) is dead. Nothing you do can change that.”

A moment passed in silence, still, deathly, frigid silence.

Then, Eden spoke.

“I can handle this on my own.” He didn’t deny it. He wasn’t denying it. Why wasn’t he denying it? “I need you to brew tea, Chamomile. Gather as much lavender as you can on your way home, until your pockets are full and you can’t carry anymore. Can you do that for me, love?”

You nodded, but you were still shaking, still unsure, still so, so confused. You weren’t dead. You could breathe, and you could think, and you ate and you slept and you weren’t dead. “I’m not.” You didn’t know who you were talking to – Adam, still clutching his sword, still ready to behead whoever his blade could reach or Eden, your Eden, the gentle protector who hadn’t looked at you once since his arrival. You just wanted someone to say it wasn’t true. You just needed someone to say it wasn’t true. “I’m not. I’m alive. I’m not de—”

“I’m in love,” Eden said, his voice soft. As if he hadn’t heard you at all. “Why does everyone act as if that’s so monstrous?”

You didn’t want to hear Adam’s response. You didn’t want to hear anything, not from him, not from Eden, and certainly not from your own frenzied thoughts, racing and only growing louder as you ran, sprinting, stumbling through the forest in any direction your legs would carry you. A crooked sob racked over your chest, and reflexively, you moved to brush away the tears blurring your vision, but you couldn’t feel yourself when you should’ve, it wasn’t flesh that met your cheek. Your eyes darted to your hand, a sneer already playing at your lips for whatever mud or decaying foliage had plastered itself against your skin, but…

But, you found a small trail of crystals, instead, silvery-glass that coated your palm, rows of jagged edges that hadn’t been there before, that shouldn’t have been there, where your blood had stained your skin only minutes ago. Or, where you thought your blood should’ve stained your skin. You hadn’t looked.

You hadn’t looked.

You froze dead in your tracks.

Slowly, our raised a hand to your face, to the cut carved into it, to what should’ve been a bloody, bloody wound. Something jagged met your fingertips, but you ignored the slight sting. It didn’t hurt. Not as much as it should’ve. Not as much as you wanted it to.

By the time you pulled away, your hand was covered with it. Thick, cool, forming webs between your fingers as you spread them apart. Dark. A kind of dark you’d only seen once.

As black as a starless sky.

[lolmanthecat]

Chapter 1

As the mid-day's sun wanders onto her face a large groan echoes the corridor of the house.

"WHY ARE THE F***ING BLINDS..."

*CRUSH*

The bedside lamp got smashed onto the curtains of the window.

"where..." She looks around as the rooms is unfamiliar, as well as the pajamas she is wearing. A noise of approaching footsteps alerts her but an excruciating pain in her side prevented her to get out of bed.

"I liked that lamp, you know?" You sigh, "it was quite the gift I got."

Her eyes widen as she sees you.

"YOU! What did you do to me? Wait, did you... Ouch!" She reacts to her own pain, "did you change my clothes? You... You..."

The words stop coming to her as she is overcome by pain.

"oh yes of course, next time you come drunk to my place covered in your own blood, I'll put you in bed in your outside dirty and sweaty clothes. Better yet I'll leave you on my doorstep instead of bandaging your wounds."

She looks at her body. She didn't notice but under her clothes she was completely covered in bandages. It was kinda uncomfortable.

"I apologize if being naked in front of me is an offence on my part, but I was running out of options and you were losing a lot of blood."

"I.." she tries to say, but you don't let her.

"I'll let you know" you continue, "that I don't exactly get excited over unconscious women covered in blood. Even less if their life's calling is to make my life miserable. If all you can do is complain here, once you are fit enough to walk you are very welcomed to take your leave. Your costume is in the wardrobe, but since I couldn't fix it there are some clothes you can borrow. I hope you will give them back afterwards."

You put down mug of hot tea on the cupboard near the bed.

"here's some green tea, hopefully you won't hate it as the rest of your stay here. There are chocolate chip cookies and some shortbread biscuits. I thought you needed energy since you were out of it for three days."

She sits there dumbfounded. She cannot comprehend what has just happened.

"I..."

"if you want to attack me again, leave it to after you get better." You just want to get out of there as soon as possible.

"thank you." She says.

You stop. This wasn't expected. "Oh, don't worry too much. I'd expect you'd have done the same." You smile to her, "not that I know where you live or that you would be the first place I'd go to. Now rest. Let me know if you need anything, I'll be back after you finish your tea."

"I like green tea by the way." She smiles while taking a sip from the mug.

"Then there is more where that came from. I'll be in the living room."

You leave the room.

That was possibly the most stressful interaction you had with her ever.

Chapter 2

In the afternoon she started to bear the pain a bit better. This warrants exploration of this prison/medical ward.

Outside the room there's just a corridor. Two rooms to the left, and an open space living room and kitchen to the right.

You lock eyes with the heroine.

"the bathroom is the last door while the other is my bedroom and it would be nice if you didn't open it." You smile, "if you want to know what's for dinner, then you'll have to tell me if you have preferences of any kind. I was thinking of making some pasta with pesto to keep it simple, but if you find something you like in the fridge I can spice it up a little."

She looks at you.

"why are you so nice to me?"

"you are a wounded person needing care. What kind of human being would toss you away?"

"you? Since when do you care about others? You risked the deaths of so many people on a monthly basis over 2022! Why would a wounded person make any difference?"

"how many did I kill?"

"well none thanks to me!"

"well I need a failsafe to make it possible not to kill anyone in case things go wrong. Thanks to you all of my work and the side effects of it haven't caused any single death."

"well if you were to stop maybe I wouldn't have to run around protecting people and stopping you!"

"you are the failsafe to my work. If I were to stop now how would I be able to protect anyone when a real threat appears?"

"are you saying you used me?"

"well, i trusted you."

"not too much of a difference I'd say."

"why do you need to put everyone in danger all the time?"

"to be able to protect them when a threat will appear that you won't be able to stop."

Silence.

"you? Protecting people?"

You sigh.

"no, protecting you."

As a Villain, one night, someone knocks on your door, you open it and there she is, the most famous invulnerable heroine of the city, completely drunk and with many bruises, as soon as you realize who she is, she passes out into you arms.

[schizosupport]

I get a lot of people telling me that I don't "look" like I'm sza. I know that it's most likely that they have preconceived notions of how schizospec conditions present, but it still irks me that people don't take my illness seriously just because I'm able to put on a performance that hides my symptoms (with the help of many medications and coping strategies). Or they try to tell me I'm "faking for attention" or something, as if anyone would want to have that stigma. I try so hard to seem "normal" to people when I know that they would think I'm a freak if I didn't, because I know that a) being visibly psychotic makes it hard to get jobs and housing and stuff and b) if They knew that I'm onto Them, They would come after me. I know that I'm lucky to be able to appear somewhat mentally healthy to nts but it seems like a catch-22. Stigma sucks. Do you (or anyone else) "pass" as non-psychotic to neurotypicals? And what's your experience?

Hey Lorax! Sorry I took forever to get back to you..

People are generally assholes about this, yeah. It's the ooooold fucking dance.

Visibly disabled? Well, guess you can forget about autonomy and respect, at the least. Passing as abled? Well, clearly you don't need any support, and you're just making excuses.

Of course a lot of people, esp in the community of severely mentally ill folks, exist somewhere on a spectrum between these two extremes....

In my personal experience that is very much the case, often to my frustration -

At first glance, especially in a setting where i know the script, and the expectations, I can pass as neurotypical at first glance. But people will quickly pick up on "something", though usually they will assume I'm autistic (incorrect) or adhd (correct) in the first round, if they get to the point of putting labels on it.

More commonly though, I just get read as fucking weird and a bit annoying, so I think the autism/adhd angle is the more generous read.

On the second round people usually arrive at anxiety, ocd, depression, stuff like that. But that requires more exposure. It's extremely unlikely for someone to figure out I'm schizophrenic unless I tell them outright, and I like it that way. I like to keep 'em guessing ;)

When I do tell people, I only really do it if I think it will go well, and I stand to gain something from it. So it usually happens after I've had a while to feel out the situation. Therefore I rarely actually experience outright dismissal of my condition, because I'm extremely private, and very careful and calculated about what personal information I share with whom, how, IRL.

When it happens, it is usually my closest related blood family. And it does piss me off.

"you're not nearly ill/disabled enough to warrant this or that diagnosis" really shouldn't be able to go so comfortably hand in hand with "pull yourself together, how can things be that hard for you, why are you so inherently lazy?".... *Looks into the camera like I'm on the office*

Haha anyways, yeah, I'm sorry, it really is extremely annoying and I'm sorry it's happening to you so much!!

Followers, you are invited to comisserate :P