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[mososimos]

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[corazondebeskar-reads]

no one could save me but you

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 2 - solitary confinement | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 1.9k

summary: You're under the care of Dr. Miller at an inpatient mental health facility. He has a vested interest in your "recovery."

warnings: dark, dark!Joel, dark!pyschologist!Joel, unethical healthcare practices, bad representation of mental health facilities, medical malpractice, corruption kink, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, manipulation, past suicide attempt, sexual abuse, abandonment trauma, inappropriate touching, non-con, abuse of power, look it's a fucked up mental hospital fic—if any of that is potentially triggering skip this one, dead dove do not eat

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the handsome doctor with the kind brown eyes tells your mother. 

Miller, she thinks he’s called. Maybe Josh? John? A good Biblical name; she knows that much. 

“She can’t have visitors. It’s like I said on the phone. She’s a danger to herself and others,” he says, brows knit and a frown turning his pink lips. 

“Won’t she get worse being all alone?” Your mother pleads. 

“I promise you she is rarely alone. It’s just that we can only have trained staff with proper safety precautions around her right now. We’ll call as soon as that changes.” Or as soon as he’s bored of you. 

At the end of the night, Dr. Miller enters your room and your hopeful look wilts before it really even has a chance to bloom. 

“Again?” you whisper. 

He squats down next to where you’re sitting on the floor. “Sorry, sweetheart. I called a few times, but no one picked up.”

This is the sixth weekend in a row that no one has bothered to visit you. And it was really starting to wear you down. 

Enough that your little tantrum had you stuck in this stupid room all alone. Now they give you extra pills, and you succumb, numb and dumb in this soft little world, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re so lonely.

Except at eight pm. You can always count on Dr. Miller to stop by and check in before lights out.

You look up at him with sweet sadness dripping from your eyes, which you wipe on the back of your sleeve. “Thanks anyway,” you say. 

“You been good today?” he asks, reaching over to neaten your sweatshirt where it’s slid down your shoulder. 

“Yes, Doctor.”

He smiles. “Good girl. I know you can get through this,” he says, and it warms you, maybe too much.

You bite your lip and look down. 

“What is it, sweetheart?”

You debate fessing up, but he’s been nothing but kind and gentle with you, and the haze you can’t seem to shake makes you bask in the warmth of his attention. Plus, he said you should tell him if anything changes with your mind or body, in case you react badly to the meds.

“I think something’s wrong with me,” you mumble. 

“Why’s that?”

“It… it makes me feel funny when you say that.”

“When I say what? When I call you a good girl?”

You flush and stare at the plain, endless white of the room. But you nod. 

“Supposed to make you feel good, honey. You’re bein’ a real good girl. Might even be able to start takin’ you outside sometimes.”

“No,” you whisper, voice harsh with shame. “A different kind of feeling. Like a real one.”

“All feelings are real. You mean like a physical one?”

You nod.

“Oh, that’s normal. You feel hot and kind of tingly?”

“Yes, Doctor Miller.”

He beams. “That’s great. That’s huge progress, sweetheart. ”

Sometimes, he can’t believe his luck. A pretty little thing like you nearly kills herself to get out of a betrothal made by zealot parents and falls right into his lap. Well, not literally. Not yet, anyway. 

He’s still building the doctor-patient rapport, so to say. 

You’re so confused; it’s making you a little dizzy. “I think I need to lie down,” you tell him. 

He stands up and offers his hand, which you take, but it’s a mistake. His skin is hot and a little dry, the coarseness brushing against your own. His fingers wrap tight around your hand to pull you to your feet, and you realize no one has touched you in three months. Not in any way. No handshakes, no high fives, no hugs. 

Your lip quivers. You think you’d be embarrassed if that was a feeling you were capable of right now.

“C’mon, let’s get you comfortable,” he says. He doesn’t let go of your hand even though the bed is just a few steps away. 

When you’re settled and have pulled the blanket up to your chest, he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Now, I don’t want you worryin’ yourself about that feeling. It’s supposed to happen, sweetheart. And feeling it means you’re feelin’ something, which is what we’re workin’ towards, right?”

“Yes, Doctor,” you whisper.

“If it’s really botherin’ ya, I can teach you how to make it go away. Or I can teach ya how to make it better.”

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and he’s hard as a fuckin’ rock. He takes your hand again, rubbing his thumb back and forth. 

“Are you—do you mean—” you stammer, panic rising. “I’m not—”

“I know, sweetheart, but I think that’s part of the problem.” He hasn’t yet gotten you to eschew your parents’ programming, not that your mother knows he’s trying to, but he’ll break you of it one way or another.

“It ain’t bad to feel that way. It’s natural. But I think you’ve felt this way before, hmm?”

You nod, looking at the white knit blanket where your hand lays in his. 

“Wanna know what else I think?” he whispers conspiratorially. 

You look up at him, biting your lip. 

He takes it for permission. “You were so scared of gettin’ married because you were afraid he’d know you liked it.”

You shrink under his analysis. This is wrong, wrong; you should not be having this conversation at all, let alone with a strange man. But… he isn’t strange, not really. He’s your doctor. If you can’t trust him, who can you trust?

“So how do you fix me?” you ask.

“A lot like this. Talkin’, like we always do. Could try some exposure therapy, get you used to your own feelings. If you’re okay with it, we could try a little right now.” 

“What?” 

“We’ll start real slow, like how we eased you into group.” Come to think of it, he’s pretty sure you’ll have relapsed a little after this long in solitary. Well, nothin’ he can’t fix again. “But today’d just be me seein’ where your comfort levels are at so we know how to move forward.”

It makes sense, you think. It makes your stomach feel like a washing machine, but in theory, it sounds reasonable. He knows what he’s doing, after all. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay. You want me to get gloves on, or are you okay with my skin touchin’ yours?” He’s slowly peeling the blanket back.

“S’fine,” you say, fists clenching the sheets as you try not to seize onto your dignity. 

He scoots back on the bed. “Just gonna lift up your gown, okay? Nice, deep breaths like we practiced.” 

You focus on a spot on the wall just past his shoulder and inhale slowly through your nose, exhaling in a huff from your mouth. 

He’s drawn the gown up and nudged your legs apart a little. “Slower, sweetheart, take it nice and easy.”

His hand moves between your legs and you flinch, almost snapping your knees shut. His other hand rubs up and down on your calf. “S’alright, you’re okay. I’m not going to go inside just yet, okay? Just want you to see what it’s like to have a hand close.”

He gently, but firmly, cups your mound, and you suck in a breath, jerking in place. 

“That okay?”

You have to take a few more deep breaths and think about it, feeling the weight of his palm against part of you that no one’s ever known. “It’s, um. It’s nice. Warm.” 

“Just keep breathin’ nice and slow for me, okay?” 

He’s looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes, the ones that have made you feel seen and heard for the three months that you’ve been here. The ones that got cold and empty when you told him how the hospital had treated you, how your parents had reacted. 

What your fiance had said when he found out. 

The ones that were warm and clever, little crows’ feet at the corners and a pinch between his brow as he studied you. 

And you relax a little, taking a slow breath that filled you to the brim, letting it wash away as his hand began to rub wide circles between your legs. 

“That’s it, honey, you’re doing great. Well beyond my anticipation, actually.” Well, his expectation. His anticipation was a whole different metric that had his heart pounding. 

“Let’s slide your panties down and see how you react to skin contact, okay? Same thing, just without clothes in the way.”

You bite your lip but nod, wide eyes watching as his thick thumbs hook into either side and tug. You raise your hips a little, allowing him to dispose of the white cotton with ease. 

“Doin’ so well for me. Such a good girl,” he murmurs, stroking one finger up and down the seam of your cunt. 

You whimper, so he stills.

“S’matter?”

“N-nothing,” you say. “Just… it’s so intense.” 

“Want me to get you used to that or do we need to stop for today?”

“No!” you cover your face. “I mean. No, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

It’s good that you’re hiding, because you miss the flash of a smirk. He resumes his gentle stroking as your breath goes ragged.

“Doctor Miller, I feel weird,” you mumble. 

“Yeah? You feel it right here?” his other hand traces fingertips over your pelvis. 

“Uh-huh. It’s… it’s so much. I don’t know,” you choke off a gasp as the tip of his finger nudges open your labia, just the width of a breath, but it makes you dizzy.

You clutch at your temple. “Is this because I’m crazy? B-because my head’s so messed up?” Everything feels like it’s spinning. 

“No, sweet girl. It’s supposed to feel like this. You’re supposed to feel good.” 

“I-I-I—” but you can’t get it out, the last syllable reaching a squeak as he traces just inside your lips. 

He pulls away. “Alright, you’ve pushed through enough for today. You did so well, honey. Tomorrow, I’ll show you somethin’ real good, okay? It should help ya, clear your head a bit.” 

You whine as he stands up. “Doctor, please, I feel… it hurts.”

“I’m sorry. It’ll fade in a moment. You’re not ready, darlin’. Remember how hard it was the first time you went out to the rec room? And it didn’t feel good after?”

You nod. 

“It’s kinda like that. You gotta acclimate. Don’t worry. I’ll help you every step of the way.”

“Doctor,” you start hesitantly. 

“Yeah?”

“When can I get out?”

“Like outta the hospital or outta this room?”

“This room,” you say, lip quivering. You’re so, so lonely, and you know he’s about to go home for the night and leave you here with no one, nothing.

He sighs. “It’s not fully up to me.”

“But you-you said I’ve been so good,” you say, tears welling.

“Don’t cry, honey. You’ll get out, it’s just… ya gotta keep showing me you’re gonna be good, okay? Ya scared some ‘a the others.”

“I didn’t mean to, I won’t do it again,” you say, unable to stop the burning tears from spilling over. You hadn’t. All you had done was throw one book across the rec room at the end of visiting hours, unable to hold back the heartbreak of being left alone again. 

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll see what I can do. Be good, now,” he says, jacket rippling a little as he sweeps out of the door. The lock clunks, and you lay back, lost in his overwhelming wake.

*title from "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak

[dearestro]

Heyyy love your work could I request maybe a james wilson x reader where they're trying to have children but she miscarries and like maybe their keeping it a secret but of course house finds out and is all supportive and them maybe like a happy ending where they do have a child

Tears and Fears

Warnings: Miscarriages, childbirth, innuendos, crude language, and angst. I apologize if I forgot anything!

Disclaimer: I know nothing about healthcare, diseases, childbirth, miscarriages, etc. Anything I have written has been found on the internet, so I apologize if it is incorrect!

Summary: After receiving some upsetting news, the reader and James are faced with a heartbreaking situation. But at least they have each other and just maybe...House?

Wilson's Pov

"Yeah...yeah. It's alright hun...I'll talk to Cuddy and see if I can get the rest of the day off...No, I'm coming to meet you...I-I love you..." I was still talking to my wife when House came in. "I'll see you soon. Bye." I hung up and dragged my hand down my face as I sighed in frustration, desperately trying not to break down. Not again.

"What's wrong? I haven't even started talking, and you already look like you want to kill yourself." House said as he walked over to my couch. 

"Nothing." I said a little too defensively. He quirked a brow at my seemingly unwarranted anger. "Look, I've got to talk to Cuddy so I can get someone to cover me, and I can take the rest of the day off. I'll see you tomorrow." I got up and started packing my things and headed for the door before turning around and looking at House. "Lock up for me." I said before leaving. After all, with all the pranks he's pulled on me throughout the years, there's no doubt in my mind that he already has a copy of my key.

I made my way to Cuddy's office. She was doing paperwork but looked up at me and smiled when I entered. 

"Dr. Wilson. To what do I owe the pleasure?" She said before a look of distaste came over her face. "Please tell me you are not here to try and convince me to follow through with one of House's harebrained schemes." I tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

"Actually, I need the rest of the day off." Her eyebrows furrowed. "It's a...family...emergency." I tried to cover up the fact I started to choke up at the word 'family' by coughing and averting my eyes. She smiled sympathetically. 

"Of course. I'll get someone to cover for you." She nodded as I started to the door. "And Wilson. I'm really sorry." I nodded and hurried to the car.

After a long and grim car ride, I finally arrived at the hospital. 

"I'm looking for my wife? Mrs. y/n Wilson." The receptionist quickly directed me to her room. It took everything in me not to run when I saw the doors to her room. Upon getting closer, I picked up my pace and rushed into the room. She jumped at the sudden movement before looking at me. Tears streamed down her face, but once I met her eyes, we both fully broke down. I quickly knelt beside her and took her in my arms. "I'm so sorry, baby." I shook my head as she pushed hers into the crook of my neck.

"I was so close!" She cried as my heart wrenched at her words. 

"I know...I know sweetheart." I whispered as I stroked her hair.

"One more week! One...more...week...and the risk would've lowered to 2-4%." She shook her head, her face still buried in my chest. "It's not fair! I thought I did everything right..."

"It's not...it's not. You did do everything right it's not your fault. It's-it's just...bad luck." I could feel her tears seep into my shirt as my own fell into her hair.

Eventually, the hospital discharged her, not before offering their condolences. I asked her if she wanted me to pick her something up on the way home, but she just shook her head and continued to stare out the window. Clearly, we both had lost our appetite for today.

Once we got home, we sat for a second before I went over to her side of the car. We made our way into the apartment, and I sat her down on the couch. I sat down next to her, and she leaned on my shoulder as I held her.

"We-we can always try again." I rubbed her arm and kissed her hair, but she shook her head.

"What's the point?" She said she sounded defeated. "It's the second one in a year...maybe-maybe I wasn’t...meant to be a mother." Her voice wavered as she held back her tears. "Maybe it's for the best. I probably would've made a terrible mom anyway." She laughed bitterly. 

"No! No. You'd be the perfect mother! You're sweet, kind, caring, nurturing..." I tried to comfort her as we both cried. "We don't have to give up. I'm-I'm willing to try as many times as possible. All the time. I'll take off work, and we'll just-just make babies all week."

"Are you sure you could handle that?" She shook her head as she laughed.

"Well...maybe give me a few minutes between tries, but..." She laughed harder, her tears temporarily stopped. I smiled hearing her giggle even if it was at my expense.

"I really thought it'd work this time..." She smiled sadly as the brief happiness wore off. "After two miscarriages...the doctor said that your chances just keep getting worse and worse with each loss." 

"I know...but we can try all kinds of things. IVF, donors, adoption..." I tried to cheer her up, give her a little hope as I kissed her temple. 

"Yeah...I just...I really wanted to carry our baby. To feel them grow and kick and..." Tears started to stream down her face again. I sighed and rested my forehead against her hair.

"I'm sorry sweetheart."

The next day, I begrudgingly went to work. Y/n insisted that she'd be ok. I tried to stay in my office for the majority of the day but was called in and out for consultations.

I finally had a free moment in my office and went to call her when House barged in.

"Good, you're here. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought you were avoiding me." I rolled my eyes and tried to focus on dialing our home phone. It finally started to dial, but just as it began to ring, House hung up the receiver with his cane.

"House!" I shouted a little too angrily.

"Wilson!" He mocked. I sighed. "What is up with you? Trouble with the Mrs?" I ignored him in favor of looking over discarded paperwork. "So it is...what fourth ex Mrs. Wilson? That's too bad. This one wasn't totally awful." He continued to ramble on. "Did you cheat on her? She cheat on you? Stop 'meeting your manly needs'?"

"Stop!" I shouted, slamming down the files, finally having enough of his taunting. "For once in your life, can you just shut up? I'm tired and I'm frustrated! And don't even ask if I mean frustrated as in sexually frustrated!" He only stared as I broke down. I rested my head on the palms of my hands as I tried to calm down. By the time I looked back up, he was gone. "Jerk." I shook my head as I redialed my wife's cell.

House's Pov

At the sight of Wilson's pathetic breakdown, I left. Something's obviously wrong. However, he'd never admit it...at least not without being all emotional and crap. I rolled my eyes just thinking about it. 

I finally made it to Cuddy's office. I walked in on what looked like a meeting with the head of trauma. 

"Cuddy!" She rolled her eyes while apologizing to the doctor before she turned to me.

"House, I'm a little busy." 

"I'll take care of this." I walked in front of the doctor. "Thanks for your sub-par service. You're fired. Bye." I turned back to Cuddy. "See? You're not busy." She scoffed before dismissing him, apparently deciding she didn't want to fight.

"Ok then, House." She folded her hands in front of her before giving me an over exaggerated and forced smile. "How can I help you?"

"Glad you're so willing." She rolled her eyes as I ignored her blatant sarcasm. "Something's wrong with Wilson." Her face dropped for a second before she quickly fixed her facade.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe you should ask him." She said as she quickly busied herself with files.

"Liar!" I whacked my cane on her desk, making her jump. "Tell me."

"It's not my business to tell, and frankly, it's none of yours either." I scoffed before heading towards the door.

"I'm taking the rest of the day off!" I said and quickly walked away before she could stop me.

Your Pov 

I had been curled up on the couch the entire day, eating comfort food and watching reruns. I had been intermittently crying throughout the day and just got off the phone with James. Even at work, he insisted on checking in on me. I got up to throw out the empty carton of ice cream when the doorbell rang.

"Coming!" I discarded the trash and quickly tried to freshen myself up by raking my fingers through my hair and swiping at the tear stains. I opened the door to be faced with the one and only..."House?" He pushed past me and let himself in. I closed the door behind him and followed. "Shouldn't you be at the hospital?" I asked as he sat down on the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, and started scrolling through the tv channels. 

"How are you and Wilson?" I raised a brow at the question. House was never one for pleasantries. 

"Fine..." I said still suspicious of his motives.

"How's the sex?" I blushed a little at his bold question.

"Good..." He turned to me with his brows raised.

"Just good?" I rolled my eyes, becoming increasingly agitated. 

"I meant great, no spectacular!" I said sarcastically. I sighed. "What do you want House? I'm tired, and I'm frustrated." 

"Aha!" I looked at him confused. "Wilson said the exact same thing today." Oh. I sat down beside him and grabbed the bag of chips I had left on the table.

"Did...did he tell you?" I asked as I sucked on a chip, my eyes staying focused on the tv.

"Yes." I swallowed the salty snack before sighing sadly.

"I...I don't know what to do. We want a baby so bad, but...I'm not sure I can handle a third miscarriage." He sighed before putting his hand on my knee. I looked up at him, a strange, sorrowful, almost regretful look on his face.

"Well...third time's the charm." I smiled weakly at the odd but caring sentiment.

"Yeah. Third time's the charm."

It was late in the evening by the time James got home. House had left hours ago, of course not before eating us out of house and home and making me binge his favorite soap with him.

"Hey babe." He leaned down and pecked me on the lips. 

"Hi..." I said softly. He came back from putting his things away.

"Are-are you ok?" He sat next to me and held my hands. His eyes were filled with worry. 

"House stopped by." I look of shock and worry crossed his face.

"What...what did he want?" 

"He said you told him." I shook my head and laughed a little. "Told me 'third time's the charm'." I felt tears pool in my eyes.

"I'll be right back..." He kissed my hairline before suddenly standing up and storming out of the house.

Wilson's Pov 

I hated to leave her, but I was blinded by rage. House had once again meddled with our lives, and this time, I would not stand for it. 

I finally reached House's apartment building. I stormed in before finding his door and pounding on it.

"House! I know you're in there!" I continued to hit the door until he opened it.

"Hey buddy! Come in." He said cheerfully. "I assume the wife told you about my little visit."

"You had no right!" I jabbed my finger in his chest as he rolled his eyes and pulled me inside. I tried to protest, but he pushed me onto the couch with his cane.

"Sit." He then hobbled off and came back with a stack of papers. "After I left your apartment, I decided to do a little research." He slammed down the papers on the coffee table. "In these papers, you'll find the best foods, diets, sleeping and sitting positions, medications, etc. for keeping your pregnancy safe and preventing miscarriages. As well as the number of a competent OBG." I looked at him in shock.

"What?" 

"Oh! Also, here's a list of the best sex positions to use during pregnancy." He handed me a paper. "It's technically safe to do all kinds of sex as long as you don't have any diseases and your doctor doesn't tell you otherwise. Although if I were you, I'd just ask for hand and blow jobs so you don't have to do anything but still get to have that special happy ending." He shrugged as I still stared at him in shock. I quickly shook my head, knocking myself out of my trance.

"First off. I'm not doing that. Secondly, my sex life is none of your business, and thirdly...thank you...I guess?" I started to look through the papers. Some of the information we had already known but there were plenty of things we hadn't thought of. I reached the page of the OBG. "Wait. This is the top OBG in the city. And it says that an appointment is already scheduled." I looked up at him in disbelief. "We've been trying to get in with her for months. How did you-?" He cut me off.

"She owes me a favor." I furrowed my eyebrows as he rolled his eyes and sighed. "Just leave and go have hot sex with your wife." I rolled my eyes as he turned to walk towards his kitchen. "Oh, and try out position number eight on that list! Did that with a hooker once. She almost quit hooking after that, wanted to get hitched right then and there!" I sighed. He was incredibly selfish and strange but...he cared...in his own screwed up way.

I entered the apartment with the stack of papers. Everything was quiet. 

"Y/n?" I heard some shuffling before she came into view. I sighed and hugged her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left like that I was just-" She cut me off with a kiss.

"Mad?" I nodded. "When you left in such a hurry after I told you about House...well, I figured you must not have actually told him and that he had lied to me." Our foreheads pressed together. 

"Right...I'm still sorry." She stroked my cheek and smiled slightly.

"It's alright." She dragged me to the couch. "What are all those papers for?" 

"Right! House printed out all this information for us..." She took the pages and looked through them. 

"Well...these are certainly...specific." I looked over to see the paper she had was the one about the best sex positions for during pregnancy. I blushed a little as I saw the diagrams with explicit instructions. 

"That's-that was House's...idea. I figured we could just throw that page away." She laughed lightly as she continued to look through the stack.

"I don't know. They might be...fun." She continued to giggle until she suddenly stopped. "We have an appointment with Dr. Ryans?" She gasped in excitement. "How?" I smiled and shrugged as she looked towards me.

"Apparently, she owes House a favor." She quirked a brow. "I don't know why, I figured it's probably better I didn't ask." She laughed and nodded in silent agreement. 

"We should go to bed." I raised a brow and smirked.

"To bed or to bed?" She laughed and patted my cheek.

"The first one." I put on an exaggerated pout before getting up and following her.

Your Pov

It had been a few months since the second miscarriage. It was hard, but thankfully, I had James. Together, we slowly got through it.

Tonight, I sat in the bathroom. A familiar plastic stick sat on the counter. I waited with baited breath. My phone alarm went off, and I quickly grabbed the test. Positive! I screamed in excitement, and James quickly came running in.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" I showed him the pregnancy test. He grinned and picked me up and spun us around before grabbing my face and kissing me. "You're pregnant?" He asked the shock, still clear on his face. I nodded excitedly before bringing him in a deep kiss. When I pulled back for air, I saw the tears in his eyes, and I could feel my own start to fall.

"I'm gonna miss our other two babies." I said. I was elated to be pregnant again, but it was bitter sweet. I was still scared for the future. He nodded.

"I know. I know. But they're safe now." I cried as he stroked my cheek, our foreheads pressed together. "We'll figure this out...together." He said as if he had read my mind. I smiled. I couldn't be more grateful for these moments even if they were tinged with a little pain.

"There's no one I'd rather go through this with." 

[the-demons-writings]

You're safe with us

(Hermitcraft x child! Dragon reader)

I appreciate all the patience and apologize that it's been so long, the post after this will be of my own personal lore but over all this is still one of my biggest projects, I'll get to all the requests soon! Thank you all for being so patient.

❦ ════ •⊰❂⊱• ════ ❦

[part 1] || [part 2] || [part 3] || [part 4] ||

The morning came and you awoke with a groan , safe to say you'd gotten some really shit sleep. Maybe it was the fact you didn't fall asleep at your usual time, in your usual place. Or maybe it was the facr Xisuma had woken you up far earlier than you are used to.

"Morning kid, time to get ready, we've got a longer day than usual."

He smiled as he gently pulled the blankets off of you and set a rather fancy-ish looking outfit on your bed.

Alright, I need you to take a bath and get dressed, breakfast will be after, I know it's different from your usual schedule but we gotta do it, okay?".

You huffed at the notion your usual schedule would be interrupted, however you couldn't stay mad for long with how happy Xisuma seemed to be about things. Slowly you do as asked, taking a bath , getting dressed and then waiting at the table for breakfast. Xisuma happily provided something he called French toast as well as bacon.

After breakfast he asked you to gather things you'd like to take out, you quickly gathered all of your usual toys as well as the book Xisuma is currently reading to you and the book you write in. He happily packed those up for you and offered you a hand. " Alright, ready Y/n?"

You nodded with a small uneasy smile. "Yes?.." You questioned nervously looking up towards Xisuma as he took your hand and began to lead you along. As you two walked you met up with Doc and Grian who smiled when they saw you.as a group you all simply continued further to a large building. To your liking the roof of the place was decorated from head to toe in large crystals and other sparkly objects. Quietly you excited yourself over the gems as the adults talked.

Once their conversation had finished Xisuma took your hand and started up your walk inside the house. Once inside Xisuma sighed as he brought you to a corner to sit. He set your things down and smiled.

"Alright Y/N I'll be over there sitting if you need anything come get me,” He pointed towards the head of a very large rectangular table “After the bigger part of the meeting finishes you can come meet everyone, they're all really nice I promise." Xisuma sighs with a smile as he ruffles your hair and goes to take his seat.

The meeting provided as usual, server updates and new pop up shops being talked about as well as things that have happened, accidents or not. A general healthcare check and a mental health check for everyone. As the meeting was nearing it's end Xisuma smiled as he spoke.

"Pardon me hermits! I have one last important thing to announce!" He started as the hermits began to quiet down. " We have a new member on the hermitcraft server, they're shy and quite skittish so let them approach you at their own pace,” He gestured over to you getting the musing and quiet concerns of the other hermits the. “Yes they're the child in the corner. Their name is Y/n and they are an official member of our server and i'd like to ask all of your help in taking care of them."

You looked up hearing your name only to realise the many , many pairs of eyes on you. It made you feel nervous almost to the point of curling up. Your wings raised, fanning out as you backed into the corner. Grian, Pearl, Impulse , Scar and Cub are the first ones to recognize the not only frightened but partially hostile look. Grian is the first to speak up walking over to you and fanning his wings to hide you.

“As a collective we should all put in the work to research dragon hybrids,. Clearly they’ve been through a lot so they may have a more hostile or timid approach to most things but I’d like it if we could welcome them all with open arms. If it's any consideration I'll be taking them first.” He glanced over at Xisuma to confirm it was okay.

“As collective caretakers it's only fair we help them heal, and grow up no matter their interests, it could be building, Redstone, Breaking the rules of reality,” He spared a quick knowing glance towards Doc “Or any of the infinite things we could offer them!”

Small talk started between the hermits all with too many things to bring up, that was until Joe spoke up.

“I think it's fantastic! We were all getting a little bored, and I think we should take the chance to become someone special in someone's life.” He smiled glancing past Grian’s wings to offer you a small smile.

Xisuma nodded. “It would be good for all of us , Grian can start us off and slowly the rest of you could get acclimated and take turns with them as well.”

Grian nodded as he picked you up, placing you on his shoulders. “Me and the kid are going to have a great time! Trust me , there will be nothing but reasonable mischief and teaching them the important basics!”

[willowsnook]

Whisky sprite in a wine glass please!! 💖💖

josh allen x riccardo!sister

you're mine, end of discussion

-----------------------------------------------------

Accepting your dream job was one of the best days of your life, but it came with one catch: you had to relocate to Buffalo, NY. Having lived in Australia your entire life, the move was daunting. Luckily, your brother Daniel had a good friend in Buffalo who offered to help you move in.

Daniel didn’t say much about his friend—just that his name was Josh and they’d met through work. So, you were taken by surprise when a truck full of three giant men pulled up outside your building, ready to help. “Josh” turned out to be Josh Allen, quarterback for the Buffalo Bills.

He and his teammates were a huge help moving your things, and before leaving, Josh insisted on giving you his number "just in case" you needed anything.

It turned out you did need him—quite a lot. From restaurant recommendations to navigating the healthcare system and learning the ins and outs of American football, Josh had been your go-to guy. He even invited you to a Bills game, where you spent most of the time confused about the rules. That led to a weekly ritual of Josh coming over to watch old football games or movies to educate you.

After five months, the two of you had grown close, and you'd developed feelings for him. Too scared to risk your friendship, you kept your crush to yourself. Josh was in his offseason now, meaning he had more free time to hang out, which only made your feelings harder to ignore.

"By the way," you said casually one evening as you lounged together on your couch watching a movie, "I booked our plane tickets for the Miami Grand Prix next weekend."

Josh looked over at you, confused. "You got me a ticket?"

"Well, yeah," you replied, unsure why he was surprised. "I thought you’d want to see Daniel."

A grin spread across his face. "Just figured you’d ask first."

"You spend every weekend with me, dummy, so I knew you were free."

"Are you saying I don’t have a life?" he teased.

"If the shoe fits," you shot back with a smirk, and before you knew it, Josh had launched himself over the couch to tickle you. You squealed, trying to push him off, both of you laughing until he paused, realizing the compromising position you were in. He quickly moved away, his cheeks slightly red.

"Well, I am excited to see your brother race," he finally said, and you smiled.

----------------------------------------------

Race day at the Miami Grand Prix was electric, and you were thrilled to be back in the paddock. Josh’s eyes lit up as he took in the sights, clearly fascinated by the behind-the-scenes of Formula 1.

"Y/N!" someone called out, and you were soon enveloped in a big hug from Lando Norris.

"Hi Lando," you said into his chest. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he said grinning before looking to Josh who was just happy to be there. "Going to introduce me to your boyfriend?"

"This is my non-boyfriend Josh, Josh this is Lando," you introduced and Josh shook his hand.

"Non-boyfriend?" Lando teased in a whisper. "That’s not what the press thinks."

You rolled your eyes, well aware of the photos circulating online that speculated about you and Josh. Being Daniel Ricciardo’s sister meant you were used to media attention, but this was new territory.

Shoving Lando playfully, you glanced over to see Josh chatting with your brother, who was pulling you into a hug as soon as he noticed.

"My beautiful sister has returned!" Daniel announced loudly, causing you to bury your head in his chest in embarrassment. He didn’t stop talking, though, dragging Josh along to the RB garage while catching up with him.

Later, as you walked through the paddock, more drivers greeted you, some eyeing Josh with curiosity.

"I feel like Daniel’s not the only older brother I should be worried about," Josh muttered as you two found a quiet moment.

You laughed. "Please, you’re twice the size of all of them."

After the race, Josh wandered off to talk to another NFL player while you waited for Daniel. When he emerged from the garage, you hugged him tightly.

"Are we going to talk about how I sent him to be your friend, and now he looks at you like you’re the center of the universe?" Daniel teased, making you blush. "You know how many drivers asked if I was okay with your ‘boyfriend’?"

"I don’t even know if he likes me like that," you admitted, voice small. "He’s so nice to everyone, it’s hard to tell."

"Trust me, he does," Daniel said sighing.

"It's your fault buddy, you basically asked him to fall in love with me," you teased and Daniel groaned. Josh was waiting up ahead and you returned his big smile, thinking about what Daniel had said.

"I have to go do interviews, but I'll see you guys later tonight," Daniel said and you waved goodbye as he left.

"Hungry?" you asked Josh as you walked toward the exit.

"Starving," he replied.

Ten minutes later, you were seated across from each other at a casual burger place. As you scrolled through your phone, you asked, "Did you have fun today?"

"Yeah, it was awesome. Really cool to see how everything works behind the scenes. Do you miss going to races?"

"Sometimes," you said thoughtfully. "I’ve known a lot of the drivers for years, so I miss seeing them."

Josh nodded. "I could tell how much they care about you—especially by the way they treated me."

You giggled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, we’re definitely not beating those ‘more than friends’ allegations."

"I don’t think I want to," he said casually, and your jaw dropped.

"What?"

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "I like you a lot, Y/N. After getting your darling brother’s blessing, I feel pretty confident saying that you’re mine. End of discussion."

"And you didn’t think to ask what I thought?" you teased, feigning outrage.

"Well, you’re with me all the time, dummy," he said, throwing your words back at you with a playful grin. "I figured you’d be okay with it."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Touché."

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Benjamin Mateus

The ninth wave of the COVID-19 pandemic in the United States is finally receding, with estimated daily new infections based on wastewater data now standing at 669,000 per day, down from the August peaks of over 1.3 million. However, experts predict that the tenth wave will begin in late fall and continue through the winter holidays, as has taken place every year of the pandemic so far.

With one in 70 individuals currently infectious, the risk of coming into contact with someone in a classroom, work, or dining at a local facility with 25 to 50 people is considerable. And despite the relative lull in cases, there is more COVID-19 transmission now than during 56.1 percent of the pandemic. In other words, the “forever COVID” policy essentially means that COVID is now everywhere all the time.

Under these conditions, forced upon society by the capitalist ruling class, repeat infections act like a battering ram, taking a growing toll on the foundation of everyone’s overall wellbeing. There is a growing body of evidence that each hit weakens the organ systems, aging them biologically beyond the person’s stated age until sufficient injury begins to manifest in physically measurable symptoms.

At present, more than one billion cumulative COVID infections have occurred in the US, at a rate of around one per year per person, with somewhere between 3-4 infections on average among the entire population. Estimates place the number of Long COVID cases at over 410 million globally in just the first four years of the pandemic, while excess deaths are nearing 30 million.

Clearly, the pandemic is ongoing and remains a significant health risk for the global population. The criminality of the “forever COVID” policy is highlighted by the fact that virtually no funding is allocated to the development of next-generation mucosal vaccines, improved treatments during the acute phase of infection, or any treatments for Long COVID patients. While trillions are squandered on war and bank bailouts for the rich, nothing is provided for critical life-saving research.

Last week, results from the first clinical trial of a mucosal vaccine were released, showing remarkable levels of efficacy after a second dose.

The important study published by Chinese investigators demonstrated that an intranasally administered anti-COVID vaccine can induce robust mucosal immunity against the coronavirus in human subjects (128 healthcare workers). The study found that the vaccine provided substantial immune protection against COVID while demonstrating safety and tolerance.

Esteemed clinical researcher Dr. Eric Topol wrote on Twitter/X, “[two] doses of a COVID nasal vaccine spray led to more than a 50-fold increase in spike specific secretory IgA antibodies against 10 strains of SARS-CoV-2, indicative of potent mucosal immunity.” Furthermore, Topol added, “At least 86.2 percent of participants who completed two nasal vaccines doses maintained uninfected status, likely without even asymptomatic infection, for at least three months.”

Emergency room physician and indoor air quality proponent, Dr. Kashif Pirzada, replied, “This could potentially give a real ending to the pandemic. No more waves of illness, no more rushing for tests and antivirals if you’re elderly or vulnerable. Hope this comes out soon!”

However, large Phase 3 clinical trials are costly, requiring multiple participants to obtain statistically relevant information on clinical endpoints, not to speak of the research and development investment to identify a therapeutic that can be tested. Thus, under capitalism, there is virtually no investment in these large-scale trials and nothing is being done beyond offering boosters of the current vaccine, despite their greatly reduced efficacy in preventing transmission.

The mucosal vaccine study was conducted just as Chinese officials acquiesced to the demands of the imperialist powers to abandon their life-saving Zero-COVID public health program, resulting in the infection of virtually the entire population and the deaths of 1-2 million people. What could such a vaccine have meant to these millions that perished needlessly and the millions more globally since then?

This raises the broader question of why the international community, facing a devastating pandemic, could not bring its accumulated scientific bodies to address the need to develop a preventative treatment against COVID?

As a trigger event in world history, the COVID-19 pandemic has only accelerated and exposed the deep-seated contradictions in global capitalism, which demands the accumulation of profits at any costs. The ruling class has nothing but contempt for workers, refusing to invest in any social programs that can improve the lives of masses of people. Short sightedness, corruption, mistrust, and suspicion epitomize their actions, which are rapidly progressing to a world conflagration carrying the danger of nuclear war.

Simply put, the ruling class cares not one iota about mucosal vaccines, just as they harbor resentment against any public health policy that infringes on their ability to conduct business.

Refusing to invest in these life-saving technologies, the capitalist ruling class has condemned humanity to face a lifetime of reinfections with COVID-19. What are the implications of this criminal policy?

Multiple previous studies have highlighted the dangers posed by reinfections with SARS-CoV-2. A recent study uploaded as a pre-print publication on Research Square (under review with the journal Nature Portfolio) by the Patient-Led Collaborative has once again found similar results when attempting to characterize the association between reinfections and the chronic debilitating condition known as Long COVID.

Among 3,382 participants (22 percent never had COVID, 42 percent with one prior infection and 35 percent with two or more infections), the risk of Long COVID was 2.14 times more likely among those with two COVID infections and 3.75 times more likely among those who had three or more COVID Infections compared to just one. Limitations in physical functioning measured in their study included ability to dress, bathe, perform moderate activities like vacuuming and functioning socially. Reinfections led to poorer overall health and worse immune health, including more severe outcomes and longer recovery from other infections.

As the authors wrote:

"Relative to those who did not report infections or experienced COVID-19 once, reinfections were associated with increased likelihood of severe fatigue, post-exertional malaise, decreased physical function, poorer immune health, symptom exacerbation before menstruation, and multiple other Long COVID symptoms. While vaccinations and boosters prior to infection are associated with lower likelihood of Long COVID, reinfections diminish their protective effect. The probability of reporting Long COVID remission is generally low (11.5 percent to 6.5 percent."

Another interesting finding of the study, which underscores the complete abandonment of public health efforts regarding COVID, is that a tiny number of those infected were prescribed antivirals during their acute COVID infections. Those with reinfections were also less likely to test, as the “forever COVID” policy has inured people from taking any protective measures to prevent infections.

The current alphabet soup of COVID strains is sees KP.3.1.1 dominate across the US and Europe, accounting for nearly 60 percent of all strains. However, a new variant known as XEC that was first detected in Germany in June has spread to more than 27 countries and accounts for six percent of all recently sequenced SARS-CoV-2 viruses in the US. Virologists expect this strain, derived from JN.1 through a complex recombination event and which has nearly twice the growth advantage, to overtake KP.3.1.1 and be the dominant variant during the winter season.

In a COVID update by TACT [Together Against COVID Transmission], the authors explain the dangers posed by these evolutionary developments of the SARS-CoV-2 viruses, writing:

"These variants can evade much of the immune responses from both vaccines and recent infections. Since they can evade antibodies to earlier variants, then that raises the risk of organ damage, vascular and neurological dysfunction, brain damage, and persistent infections which often leads to Long COVID. The unmitigated spread is raising concerns about their impact in the coming months."

Hospitalization rates for those 65 years and older and children were one of the highest during the summer from COVID and remain on par with the prior year’s summer/fall wave. The number of people that died from COVID In the week ending August 31, 2024, has climbed to 1,239, four times higher than the lows seen in June. At the present rate, it is expected that at least 60,000 people will officially lose their lives from acute COVID this year, not including deaths incorrectly attributed to another cause or due to the impact on the population’s health from accumulated infections.

These are not incidental and speculative issues. In a provocative report released by the Swiss Re Group, titled “The future of excess mortality after COVID-19,” one of the world’s leading providers of reinsurance and insurance, who specialize in financing the risk of death, they said, “[If] the ongoing impact of the disease is not curtailed, excess mortality rates in the general population may remain up to three percent higher then pre-pandemic levels in the US and 2.5 percent in the UK by 2033.”

They advised their investors:

"Based on current medical trends and expected advancements, we conclude that COVID-19 is still driving excess mortality both directly and indirectly. In the long term, lifestyle factors that contribute to poor metabolic health and lead to obesity and diabetes may become another compounding factor in population excess mortality. Insurers may wish to continue to monitor excess mortality and its underlying drivers in the general population closely, as well as the differences between general and insured populations."

[eretzyisrael]

JTA and Andrew Lapin

Almost as soon as the piece appeared online, it began drawing criticism from within the Guernica staff. Founded in 2004 partly in response to the Iraq War and named after Pablo Picasso's famous anti-war painting, the nonprofit magazine has long married literary bona fides and left-wing politics.

Joshua Gutterman Tranen, an anti-Zionist Jewish writer who has published in Guernica in the past, specifically pointed out a passage he found objectionable in which Chen briefly pauses her volunteer work after October 7, writing, "How could I continue after Hamas had massacred and kidnapped so many civilians, including Road to Recovery members, such as Vivian Silver, a longtime Canadian peace activist? And I have to admit, I was afraid for my own life."

"The moment in the Guernica essay where the Israeli writer – who never considers why Palestinian children don't have access to adequate healthcare b/c of colonization and apartheid – says she has to stop assisting them getting medical support because of 'Hamas,'" Tranen tweeted. "This is genocidal."

Chen's essay is not the first time progressive Jews and Israelis have been condemned for being insufficiently critical of Israel. The official movement to boycott Israel, for example, called for a boycott of Standing Together, an Israeli-Palestinian coexistence group that opposes the war, saying that the group promotes "normalization" of Israel. And when Haymarket Books, a left-wing publisher, recently announced a book co-authored by longtime leaders of the anti-Zionist group Jewish Voice for Peace, it drew sharp criticism on Instagram – in part because one author, who supports boycotting Israel, is married to an Israeli and has family members in Israel.

For some Jews who have questioned their place in progressive and literary spaces since October 7, Guernica's retraction offered new evidence of a toxic discourse in which no Israeli or Jew can pass muster.

"THIS is what was beyond the pale? This essay of nuance, lived experiences, fears, hopes, and continuing to strive in her own way for peace?" tweeted Sara Yael Hirschhorn, a historian of modern Israel who has written about her own struggle to sustain her liberal Zionist outlook after the attack, after reading the retracted piece. "Obviously this is just a bigoted decision about an Israeli and Jewish author … This virtual burning of books is bareknuckled antisemitism."

Emily Fox Kaplan, a Jewish writer who had shared the essay before it was retracted, wrote that she saw the criticism of Chen's essay as part of a much wider dynamic.

"The problem, when it really comes down to it, is that it presents an Israeli as human," she tweeted. "The people who are losing their minds about this want to believe that there are no civilians in Israel. They want a simple good guys/bad guys binary, and this creates cognitive dissonance."

Some non-Jewish writers also lamented the piece's retraction.

Matt Gallagher, a war correspondent who is also a veteran and who opposes the Israel-Hamas war, said his own work had benefited from reading thoughtful authors whose perspectives were different from his own.

"If you want the war in Gaza to end, as I do," he tweeted, "shouting down calm Israeli voices mulling the ruin of it all isn't going to help."

[abyss-seer]

heyy can i request a relationship reading on mingyu (svt) and lisa, and how they feel about eachother? 🥰🫶🏻

These reads are for entertainment purposes only. So take them with a grain of salt 🧂

****Viewer Discretion is Advised****

Tarot Readings are meant for entertainment purposes only, take them as a second opinion only. The purpose of these readings is to bring insights into a person's life, hence only take the guidance with your own free will. Tarot Reader is/will not be held responsible for the viewer's actions. Viewer Discretion is strictly advised and to be adhered to while watching tarot readings for themselves.

USE YOUR DISCERNMENT. DO NOT FOLLOW ANYTHING BLINDLY. THESE READINGS ARE MEANT FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY.

*******INDIVIDUALS SEEKING LEGAL, MEDICAL, OR ANY PROFESSIONAL ADVICE ARE ADVISED TO SEEK PROFESSIONALS OF THESE RELATED AREAS. ********

Individuals seeking mental, emotional, or psychological attention are advised to seek mental healthcare professionals, or the National Health Care Helplines of their respective countries and consider the opinions, resources, and guidance of these professionals as their first priority and the tarot reader's words as a friendly opinion or as a friendly advice.

Reading :-

I was so excited to do this read, first of all, because when googled Mingyu, I found a funny photo of him 😂 and I thought this reminds me of my bestie. Coincidentally they are besties

Mingyu's side

He thinks being friends with Lisa is pretty good and beneficial for him in the long term. He feels like he can learn a lot and recieve a lot of insights and help with her. The foundations of their friendship doesn't seem to be built on trust tho, I got two 4 cards and two 7 cards which is Rahu Ketu energy, He might feel like she completes him or is helpful for him to complete his unfulfilled dreams and desires. But with 4 of wands as last card. They might feel distant enough to celebrate together.

Lisa's Side

She might feel that he's going through a tough time in life due to his heavy expectations and fear of his own expectations that she thinks that he often limits himself from doing something better in life. Its interesting to note that while Mingyu sees himself as Emperor in reverse but she sees him as Emperor upright. Meaning she's well aware of his talent and strength and knows of his anxiety and fears of not being able to meet those standards he sets for himself. I am also seeing that she might see him as someone not committed enough to learn or invest in something deemed to be better for him. She seems to foresee his fear of victory, his loss, and the bad things he sometimes ends up manifesting for himself due to giving up soon😭and may feel guilty of not being able to offer him a collab or an offer as promised. But she believes that someone else might find him well suited enough to implement his ideas. I feel like she feels he is stubbornly stuck on an idea or something and that's what could be causing some disharmony among them. She seems worried for him.

[kishavo]

plagued by memories tonight so I’m going to spit them up and hopefully that brings me relief.

I was an EMT for about 5 years and I think these things are tattooed on my bones. trigger warning under the cut for…upsetting healthcare-related experiences? and the f-slur

I remember bringing a wheelchair-bound elderly man up to his shoebox apartment in the inner city, 12 floors up a derelict building in a tiny, shaky elevator, and being hit with the stink of smoke as soon as I opened the door - cigarette butts stubbed out on every surface, ashtrays overflowing, carpet that started out as brown matted down to black. I offered to help him into bed but he refused. he took off his vietnam veteran baseball cap and picked up a stale pack of cigarettes and told me to go

I remember the man who had been attacked by his neighbors’ dogs, two Rottweilers. his legs were mangled; huge scoops of flesh just gone. he was kind. he asked me how my day was going.

I remember the dead woman in the ER who I was told to bag up and bring down to the morgue. she looked familiar. I remember putting a tag on her thumb but I don’t remember her name. I remember making small talk with the ER tech who was helping me on the elevator ride down to the basement. that sounds like the start of a joke, doesn’t it? a girl, a man, and a dead body get in an elevator. if you think of a punchline let me know

I remember the frequent-flyer patient with a chronic mystery skin infection that caused his legs to leak so much fluid that we had to wrap them in plastic bags or else the gurney would get flooded and it would soak into his pants and spill over the edge onto the floor of the ambulance. the first time I got his call I thought we’d been sent to a haunted house. it was an old victorian in downtown, made of rotting wood and peeling paint. The knob in the front door had been ripped out so I bent down and looked through. There was no answer when I knocked so I yelled ‘hello’ through the hole until eventually someone came down the stairs and silently let us in. Our patient’s apartment was one room, it was dark, it smelled, the bed was as dirty as the floor, beer cans and cigarettes everywhere. There was a tiny, square, box TV playing static. There were spoiled diapers kicked under his desk. He lived alone and apparently had no family. I and every EMT who had ever been sent there reported the situation to social services but nothing was ever done.

there was the woman coming down from a meth binge who kept asking me if I was going to eat her brains. we dropped her off at a psych facility and a few days later I was back with another patient. I saw her again, sober now. when she saw me she averted her eyes and retreated into her room

there was another woman in the middle of a severe psychotic episode who, within 5 minutes of meeting me, looked me dead in the eye and said, “You’re a fat fucking faggot and I want you to die.” She had pissed on all her personal belongings and the back of the ambulance stank so bad of stale human urine that I had to kick the fan on and spray air freshener into my face mask. She spent most of the call insulting and trying to spit on me and my partner. My partner snapped at her but I just ate it. Later, when we were outside cleaning the gurney and waiting for the next call, a stray cat slipped out from behind a nearby dumpster and curled around my boots. he booped my knuckles and mewled when I pet him and the night was good again

I remember being in and out of psych facilities so often and feeling like a fucking imposter because I was burning out, depressed out of my mind and regularly experiencing suicidal ideation. I wondered when I would call 911 and end up there myself. I wondered if it would be my coworkers who would pick me up. the thought of it scared me enough that I never made the call, even when I should have. I started getting high instead

I remember the middle-aged woman having a panic attack. that was at my on-location job, at my city’s arena, where all the concerts and games were held. it was a slow night and too many of us responded. this woman was hyperventilating, the bass from the concert was everywhere, and a crowd of strangers was closing in on her. I got there first, so by default it became my call, which always made me nervous. I sat her down, I kneeled in front of her, she grabbed my hands reflexively and I let her grip on. I coached her breathing. I waved my coworkers back to give her space. I convinced her that everyone there just wanted to help her and that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. it worked. I was soothing, and sure, and strong. it worked.

when it was over she held my shoulder and thanked me. patients don’t usually thank us. when it was over I went to the bathroom and cried. I handled it so well because I had been talking my mom down from her panic attacks for years.

I talked about that call in group therapy the week after. I thought I was going to be proud, that it would be a positive share, but I cried again.

when people ask about what it's like being an EMT, I don’t think they want to hear any of this, they only want the cool stories. they want to hear about the lights and the sirens and to thank you for your service but please, please, don’t. There’s a quote by Anaïs Nin: “I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise.”

[themarvelhorse]

I Sail, When the Wolf Comes

CW: Death, Mental Illness

A vent, rant, of sorts. I put this here not just to express my feelings, but to let anyone who wants to, know what's up with me, especially right now.

My dad died.

I always feel like I need to say it like that. Not "he passed away", or he's no longer with us. As if I'm trying to force myself to accept that reality.

He died the day I left to visit a friend. He wasn't even over 65. He was left there to rot for four days. The rot. I can't get the smell of the rot out.

We lived together since the pandemic. He saved me from having to live with my mom. I love my mom and she's very supportive and loving but...

She has schizophrenia, the kind that makes her paranoid. The kind that leads her to stop trusting her friends and family, no matter what we do or say.

She's always been stubborn, but that one makes it so much harder.

It's funny. I've felt like I've had more hope of stopping catastrophic climate change than I do of saving my parents from themselves. I know, I've tried so fuckin' hard to do so. But the decay, the rot, started so much sooner, while they were still alive.

I got to watch the car crash in slow motion. I saw as my mom grew increasingly paranoid over time. All the yelling - not at me mind you - but I was the only one she could yell in the direction of. I took a break, spent some time with my dad, and came back. But then she pretty much picked up where she left off.

I couldn't stay, and it broke my heart.

I could stay, with my dad. We would watch sci-fi, retro TV, movies together, share coffee, a drink, our own inside jokes. It was great.

My mom sold the house, lost most of her things, and was a total mess. When she eventually found an apartment, I went to go furnish it since she... couldn't.

She was admitted to a hospital after screaming about aliens in the middle of the night.

They gave her medication, and helped her return to her old self... or at least reduce the damage. But she's always had that stubborn attitude. And of course, the healthcare system wouldn't have been able to help. There's no one left to offer help.

I can see it coming back. She tries to hide it around me so she doesn't get angry, but it'll come back. She invites family to dinner only to get mad at them. Like, she's mad at them when she invites them. Why?

So, my dad saved me from that. I was able to help from a distance. Somewhat. My dad saved my ass from a lot of things that could have gone much worse. He saved me from myself when I spiral.

But we moved again, and there was a new city I didn't want to go to, but he did. I came along eventually and got really into it. He did too, for a time. But then, things started piling up. A lot of things I wasn't even aware of.

It was a cycle of getting better and then worse. Each time I left, I realized he would be worse. Soon, it didn't matter if I left.

So let me whisper you a reminder Before they come to take me away Whenever there's no hope left to inspire Keep shining a light they all need to see

A fire that burns out for the last time A satellite falling from the sky

Another light shines on the horizon With courage and grace you said goodbye

A fire that burns out for the last time With courage and grace you waved goodbye Oh, goodbye

It was a heart attack, but was it? I'm going through his things. I'm seeing everything he was dealing with.

He was always supportive, and rarely judged. But I'm afraid of those moments when he did. When he tried to be open and honest about how he felt about things.

It was often contrary to my thoughts and perspective. And I argued that.

I'll give one example - he wasn't supportive of environmental action. But he was still supportive of me taking it, because I wanted to. Because he was a good dad.

And he did what he thought was best. Shove those feelings deep down so as to not stir up trouble with his son. Or at least I imagine so. I know he did everything and more for his sons.

That's what I am at the end of the day. A villain.

I'm a villain to my friends and family. People who've supported me so much over the years. I never knew how to repay them. I knew I wouldn't get a job that would make enough money to do that, so I wanted to do a job that would make life better for them indirectly. Or stop it from getting worse.

But it feels like so few would agree with me on how I do that. The science and academic literature say otherwise. I know I'm not trying to be a villain. I work to keep myself, my thoughts and opinions open. But some things I just can't move on. Can't move on taking climate change seriously. But ultimately what will happen? Their instant flights will eventually be gone. Their love of red meat limited to far less than they consume now. Their love of cars and giant single family homes. Their support of a politician who'll only drive us all backwards and make things worse. Their transphobia.

Of course it's not all those things for everyone. People are complex. But it's always those red flags.

And there's so much of life that's still supposed to get better after that. Flights and travel won't be gone. Meat won't be gone. Cars won't be gone. We'd have more time to spend enjoying life, or travelling, etc.

They would support me, because they trust me for me. If I got anything done, I'd surely be the villain in their eyes. The eyes of so many people I care about. Maybe it's a good thing I haven't finished so many projects I've started.

They've come out of the woodwork to offer support in this time, but it all leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The taste of rot. I'm sure that overtime, our relationships will rot away. I'll do what I have to, for their own good. Sounds like something a villain would say, eh? Maybe so, I haven't saved anyone. I've only helped where I could to ease the pain. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life when I was younger, so I wanted to do that. Help. Know I was doing something good.

Of course it comes at a cost. Asking for anything always does for me.

And so, my heart breaks yet again.

And yet again, I am alone. Because even for all their support and offerings of wanting to talk, most who do want to talk, I can't talk to. Or I have to tread lightly. Who knows what I'll say to someone that I don't know their opinion on? My issues cross over with climate action and related stuff. So there's so few I have to talk to. All those friends in the sector went their separate ways. I don't judge them for that, we all have jobs to do to get this done. We're all burnt out.

At least my dad's suffering is over. Just gotta pick up the pieces, and find a new place to stay.

"Me was sick and nigh to death

Tili go tili go

Me was sick and nigh to death

tili go tili go

Me was sick and nigh to death but I vowed with my every breath

For go with wisdom ways

When I sail."

[eddiediaaz]

got a call from a social worker today after my doctor requested it and she was so sweet. i explained that i don't know if i wanna go through the public mental health system again cause i need more than 5 to 10 free sessions (it's usually the maximum amount of free therapy the public healthcare system can offer) and i cannot start over with a 4th therapist again knowing it will end 2 months later, and she said she agrees. and that they will get me more help, and that i qualify for the "second stage" of public health funded mental health care. i just gotta wait a couple weeks but yeah.

i feel so relieved to finally being able to possibly start therapy again soon, even if i'm currently unemployed. i thought i would have to wait to find a job + wait 3 months until the private insurance kicks in and then still spend a lot of money out of pocket for it. i feel listened to and i very lucky. the social worker gave me her number and said i can call her whenever until i get the call for the next step in a few weeks. i also started antidepressants again yesterday, a smaller dose than last time, to start with. i hope this works out well because truly i've been feeling so out of my depth the last couple of months.

[providencepeakrp]

“Despite the forecast — live like it's SPRING.”

As temperatures begin to warm and the last of the winter slush melts away, the city of Providence Peak is beginning to flurry with the activities of spring instead. Residence are cleaning up their homes, the city officials are cleaning up parks, and stores are fixing up their inventory to bring each and every person something new and exciting as Providence enters the Spring season at last! To help the adventure begin, the city will be hosting the annual Spring Extravaganza once more — the community working together to put on the biggest and best welcome to the new season!

SCHEDULE OF EVENTS

All Week (April 5th - April 13th) — The downtown extravaganza will begin on Saturday and run all week long. This portion of the event fills the downtown square area of Providence Peak with vendors selling local goods and foods, stalls offering free merch, activities for the children, and even a petting zoo! You can find the full list of vendors HERE. Friday (April 5th) — Cuddle up with blankets and a movie under the stars with Starview Drive-In with an early showing of Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire. If you're looking for something a bit more family-friendly, follow the path of migration to their showing of Migration. Feel free to show up before dusk for a bit of fun with cornhole competition, a barbeque provided by the drive-in free of charge, live music, and half-priced snacks for later in the night. Saturday (April 6th) — Come one, come all to the annual reopening of Stomias Point Amusement Park where admission is always free and on this day only, so are the rides! Every two hours, Stomias Point will be offering free ride wristbands. Ride wristbands are good for two hours and each person can only receive one wristband. There is limited availability, so be sure to snag yours up to experience the thrills of Stomias Point Amusement Park’s opening day! Sunday (April 7th) — Meander downtown as soon as the sun rises to a true Holy Spirits' Sunday mass, complete with brunch offerings courtesy of Amelie's and spring-themed cocktails that will have the offering plate overflowing by the end of the day. Monday (April 8th) — Hopefully you’re not too tired from the busy weekend, because as the festival carries on downtown, Take It Outdoors is hosting a boat and kayak race across Summit Lake. Feel free to bring your own equipment or they’ll have more than enough for participants to rent during the event. And what’s the prize for crawling out of bed and standing outside under the sun all day only to row across the largest lake in Providence Peak? Well, two brand new personalized kayaks, complete with paddles and life vests, of course! Tuesday (April 9th) — In support of Providence Peak Memorial's new research initiative, find yourself a good seat at the charity baseball game happening at the local baseball field in Claret Park or, if you're feeling charitable, join in on a team and swing some bats around for the sake of raising money for several research study opportunities that are pushing toward a brighter future in the healthcare industry. Concessions will be selling popcorn, hot dogs, and soda pops with all proceeds going toward the hospital's research program. Wednesday (April 10th) —  Find your way to Mayor Harris’ stand in the midst of the festival for a spring raffle. Each person has the opportunity to purchase 5 raffle tickets and are about to bet them on a chance to win some of this seasons grand prizes. Then, join Keola and Mya for a dance party in the center of the festival where they’ll be playing all of the current hits and rocking along to each one with the citizens of Providence Peak. Thursday (April 11th) — Join Barks and Recreation for an adoption event like no other. The community of Providence Peak is welcome to come hang out at their adoption center's location for their outdoor adoption event! In addition to holding meet and greets withevery single dog and cat that's currently waiting to find their furever family, there will be fun carnival-esque games to play and prizes to win for the entire family. Feel free to find a tree and take a break to enjoy refreshments provided by Lunch Box, The Sweet Spot, and Hot Cocoa Stop's food trucks. Sponsored by Good Pets, each animal adopted will also be going home with an entire care kit full of essentials free of charge! Saturday (April 13th) —  As the downtown festival wraps up, join the city at Frederick’s Farm in Bighorn Hills where everyone will be treated to fresh popped popcorn, apricots picked that day, and lemonade while waiting for their turn to fly in one of dozen hot air balloons sponsored by Providence Peak University.

EVENT DETAILS

This event will be kicking off Thursday, April 4th at 12pm EST (noon). It will run until Sunday, April 14th at 12am EST (midnight). No new event starters should be posted after this time, but members may take the next few days to wrap up their threads.

Previous threads should be paused or completed by Wednesday, April 4th.

Activity checks will be held as usual. Acceptances will be on a rolling basis.

Dress is casual and temperature is expected to be in the mid 70s during the day, be sure to dress and plan accordingly!

Have fun and be sure to relax and enjoy this event! Please tag all event related posts with providence.event and be sure to check the starter blog for open event starters.

[hajimsblog]

"Mr. Morada, are you listening?"

He had a lot to think about. From his own condition to the whereabouts of his daughter, Indigo had a lot to think about. Was she avoiding him on purpose again? Had she made the trip to the school at all? Was she even on this continent? The idea of anything happening to her made him feel sick.

~

Maxwell frowned at the display in front of her. Despite calling his name multiple times, the man was still muttering pitifully to himself. One hand held his neck, massaging it softly, while the other was covering the lower half of his tight expression. Instead of paying attention to her instructions, Indigo was too wrapped up in his world of self pity. As she watched the man, Maxwell was able to pick up on the fact that whatever he was thinking of was getting worse. Although his eyes were far away at the beginning of their meeting, he had them shut tight as he choked back a sob. Maxwell clicked her tongue.

For what reason could he be crying right now?

And for what reason did he think that would be acceptable to do in front of her?

Tilting her head, Maxwell could see the answer to her questions. Alongside his harsher breathing, Indigo was also digging his nails into his neck. Far longer and sharper than they ought to be, it was if he had claws that were now drawing tainted blood. Although they were still hidden from her sight, Maxwell had to imagine his teeth were similarly altered. She didn't particularly care for what condition her coworker was in, but she did want to end this meeting as soon as possible.

Maxwell leaned over the table the two were seated at, snapping repeatedly in front of Indigo's face. Although she doubted the noise would draw his attention, he couldn't ignore the static bolts that caused his face to spasm.

Just as Indigo was offering a sheepish grin, Maxwell returned to her original position with her arms folded. Just as Indigo was about to speak, Maxwell raises her hand.

"I really don't want to hear your apologies, Mr. Morada. If you aren't going to take this job seriously, I am going to have to reconsider your application," Maxwell says. Just like that, the pathetic expression he seemingly always wore returned. It took everything within Maxwell not to sneer.

"You're right, you're- yes! I'm sorry, you have my full attention, Doctor," Indigo stammers out. He was still rubbing his neck, just softer than before.

Maxwell lets out a brief sigh before continuing," As I was saying, you have been flagged on multiple occasions for erratic behavior. I now also have evidence for such behavior. Do you believe that this will become a conflict with your lessons?"

"Ah- no! I assure you that I have no problems when teaching. I just- today has been off for me for a multitude of reasons," Indigo says, chuckling at the end. Maxwell only hums in response.

"If I recall, you have yet to give your approval for the school's healthcare plan. Is there a reason why you haven't submitted your information into the hospital portal?"

Immediately, the man started to stammer again. If she was anyone else, it wouldn't be clear if the man had genuinely forgotten or had another reason. But Maxwell knew exactly what the issue was.

"You know, Mr. Morada," Maxwell starts, leaning closer to him once more," I am in charge of the program. I can be your primary doctor."

His gaze fixated on the ground.

"We have worked together plenty in the past, yes? I believe that I, of all people, would know what is best for you."

He winces.

"I know of your past and, besides, we both know exactly what you're so keen on hiding. There's no need to be ashamed of asking for help."

"I'm not afraid of asking from help!"

"Then what is it, exactly Morada?" For the first time, their eyes meet. Indigo is quick to turn away though.

"I just," he starts," I am not sure what good a doctor would be-"

"Do you think you are better than me?"

"No, of course not-!"

"Yes, let's not forget which one of us actually made it into medical school."

Maxwell pauses, gauging his reaction. Judging by his wide eyes, she had stunned him into silence.

"Morada, I will give you a physical copy of the papers. Please read through them thoroughly. I highly recommend choosing me."

Although she was sure his mind was still reeling, Indigo manages a small nod.

"Excellent. Don't worry, Mr. Morada. Your health will be in excellent hands."

[mikaelsrose]

part two: the lights of new york

Pairing: Tyril x m!OC (Jude St. Clair)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow; modern au!

Word count: 4600

Rating: T

Warnings: cursing, mention of alcohol, mention of drugs 

Category: short-series, modern au

A/n: here's an insight into Jude's life, you're free to hate me for what I did

Tag list: @cashweasel @starlight-starfury @lilyoffandoms @lazypartridge @watatsumi-island @sophie-summer @brycesgirl @choicesficwriterscreations

pinterest boards: Tyril | Jude | Tyril x Jude

playlist: there's a change! »here's« a new one for those who're interested

Tuesday

afterhours. 

Numb, exhausted, and terribly cold, Jude sat sprawled on a particularly uncomfortable red leather couch with his eyes glued to the massive neon sign with the club’s name. afterhours. Accurate, he thought. It used to be his favourite spot in Manhattan whenever he visited the States as a teenager. Always surrounded by a group of attention seeking leechers, people vying for his attention, buying him drinks, offering drugs, or even themselves. Unfortunately, this was Jude's reputation—opiate enthusiast, ladykiller, family's black sheep. The name St. Clair meant influence. It was enough to be photographed next to him once, and one could be catapulted into stardom, fleeting but enough for a start of a career. 

Jude closed his eyes for a few seconds, feeling the familiar burning sensation and tears forming under his eyelids. 

Woozy, overstimulated, drunk, on drugs. Pathetic. Someone offered to change location, saying it’s well past midnight. He felt a nudge on his arm but waved them off, and soon he was left alone in their lounge, with a dirty table full of empty glasses and white powder remains. He stared at his phone for a long time before finding the strength to pick it up and search for the right number. 

Drugs didn’t give him the desired effect any more, at least not to the desired degree. Jude yawned and allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks, hoping they would ease the burning sensation. 

“Please, pick me up,” Jude cried into the phone ten minutes later, 

That night, after eighteen months under strong encouragement of his company, his strong will broke, and he joined his posse in what they liked to call “happy-pill-sharing,” and then continued to fill his stomach with rum based cocktails. By the time he called James, he was barely conscious.

Wednesday

The perks of being born into a family of multimillionaires include: being spoiled rotten, having the access to the best of everything, and, as in Julian St. Clair’s case, unlimited access to high quality drugs. Growing up, he had everything his little heart desired as well as the best schools, tutors, and healthcare. Léa St. Clair, Jude’s mother, despite having spent hundreds of hours on reading parenting books, made a cardinal mistake in raising her long-awaited, prayed for child—she treated him as her best friend rather than a son. Having failed with her first two sons, she was desperate to have at least one worthy heir to the family’s legacy, but as it turned out, the young St. Clair had always been somewhat rebellious, always pushing the limits of the law and people’s patience with him. The moment Léa realized her mistake, Jude was already fifteen, and she just ended the call with the school principal, who claimed her son was found on the school property while partaking in sexual activities with another student. Forty minutes later, her heart sank even deeper when she learned the student was Vena Starfury’s son. She remembered vividly the poorly hidden smirk of the principal when he said Julian was under the influence of drugs—he knew the school budget was about to be very generously aided.

That evening, Léa raised a hand at her son for the first time, giving vent to her emotions; it was an event that Jude will forever wear painted on his face as his mother’s expensive rings left a scar on his cheekbone. Later that afternoon along with her husband, Léa announced that Julian will transfer to London where his rather strict and conservative aunt, Léa’s sister, would take care of him. She pinned her hopes in Elisabeth to smarten up her son. However, it soon emerged that Julian was on a slippery slope and way too far to be helped in ways that didn’t involve incapacitation.  

James sighed heavily before splashing his tired face with cold water. Looking at himself in the mirror, he thought how little has changed since Jude and him were in high school and most of their nights looked exactly like this—Jude mixing drugs with alcohol, drowning his emotions in vodka, fooling around with that Starfury guy, and him helping him sneak back into the fortress of a home or letting him crash on his sofa. Almost unwillingly, his hand opened the cabinet above the sink, his eyes following his own reflection in the mirror, trying to delay the moment of looking inside. Dicodid, Vicodin, Exalgo, Percodan. James scanned the etiquettes, cursing in his mind. The exact same starter pack as the one they used back in the days when they would go clubbing almost every night in London.   

“What the fuck are you doing with your life, Jules?”

Having closed the cabinet, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, wondering whether it’s loathing or pity he felt for himself. Whichever one of those options it was, he also felt compassion for his friend. James understood how difficult it was to get out of addiction, at least the one that started as a way to relax and become a member of London’s elite clubbing “boy club.” The requirements were rather simple: be rich, attend Cambridge, be ready to party hard. Now that he thought of it he felt resentment, but back in the day, being accepted into the group was Julian and his most important task. That’s where Jude gained his popularity, being labelled as the “pretty, sad boy” - a title that was not too far from the truth. Unlike James, Julian fell into the trap of addiction easily, since he was used to taking abnormal amounts of pain relievers since he was sixteen. 

James was known as the one responsible for the break-up of the group after a year of joining - praised by many for that decision but critiqued by even more. He was able to quit drugs easily, but as it soon turned out, Julian needed the intervention of professionals. 

He shook his head. It was definitely loathing.

“We need to have you up and running by the evening, Jules, so please try to get your shit together.”

Jude looked about the spacious venue, smiling to himself at the overwhelming amounts of white marble, long, white candles, and his family’s favourite Juliet Roses crowded in multiple massive, ceramic planters. His mother certainly knew how to project an image of an elegant, influential, wealthy family. 

His gaze focused on the familiar piano player until his mother blocked the view.

“Julian, I need you to behave tonight, this is an important event.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m a big boy, mom.”

“You tend to forget that,” she concluded curtly, and straightened his tie. “Find Adira, socialize with her. It’s good press.”

Jude rolled his eyes in response but agreed reluctantly. Soon, his brothers joined him.

“How do you like the set-up, Jay?”

James wrapped an arm around his neck and reached for a champagne flute carried by a passing-by waitress. 

“I love our family reunions, there's always so much drama,” Jude chattered, swirling his wine glass, jaded. 

"You are the cause of all the drama," Pierre rolled his eyes.

James snickered. "Attention-whore."

"Please don't mess it up at least once? It's important for dad," the oldest St. Clair continued, staring his brother down. Jude shrugged.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. It's not like I was going to make out with Adira on the dance floor or something."

"Don't complain, Jules,” James chipped in. “You can say what you want about mom, but she has your type down pat—tall, skinny, rich, and pretty fucking annoying," he teased.

"Only if she had a dick."

Pierre groaned. "Oh my god, just shut. You," Pierre pointed at James. "No stupid, suggestive comments, and you," his finger slid towards Jude. "Just don't be yourself. Sit still and look pretty."

"Aye."

“And grow the fuck up, it’s high time.”

After spending about half an hour with Pierre and James, Jude went on the prowl for his mother’s choice of a perfect daughter-in-law, that is Jude’s wife. It didn’t matter much that he refused ten years ago to form any kind of relationship with Adira, and he didn’t change his mind, Léa invited her to all important events just so the two of them would be seen in one room. Adira was something of a damage control after all of Julian’s excesses.

"I was a good boy all night, mom!"

"Julian, stop this tomfoolery. Grandma Eloise said that the injury reared its head."

"The pain is never gone. It just so happens to increase in intensity when I'm in this house," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Must be a trauma response after kicking me out or something."

Léa clenched her fists. "I don't need the press to focus on your foolish injury, Julian," she said curtly and handed him a key. "You know where to go. Don't make us look bad."

For a short second, he looked into his mother's cold eyes, desperately searching for the crumbs of motherly affection and care, yet was met with icy indifference. Don't make us look bad. He smiled contemptuously. That's not what she'd say to his brothers, no. Pierre and James heard, “I'm proud of you.” Sometimes “Make us proud.” Julian watched his mother's lean back disappear behind the mahogany door, and he cursed. You know where. 

It was almost 11. He rubbed his tired eyes and fighting the urge to stay there and go to sleep, Jude got up, feeling woozy and slightly unsteady on his feet, and made his way back to the party. Appearing, seemingly, out of the blue, Pierre nudged his shoulder. 

"The hell've you been?"

Jude looked at his tipsy oldest brother, and smiled. "Cig break," he nodded towards their father, who was revising his speech hastily. "Nils’ looking dapper as fuck, you think he's gonna announce his retirement?"

"I don't think he'd need that many cameras for that. It's something bigger."

James cursed under his breath, seeing the state his brothers were in. He took a place next to them by one of the few tables where there was any food left and helped himself to one of the last Gruyère and Crab palmiers. "This party is going fantastically. Dad's side chick is one of the guests, mother is murdering him with her stare, Pierre's tipsy and Jules' high. A strong family with values."

Julian ignored his remark. "What's the big announcement, smart ass?"

“No clue. I’m surprised he actually didn’t tell us.”

Jude rubbed his burning eyelids and crossed his arms on his chest, watching his father stoically deliver his well-rehearsed speech. He had trouble focusing on his words, though, having suddenly felt a bit nauseous.

He reached for the last full champagne flute.

"Our company has been very vocal about starting the research on that matter and finding the ultimate cure; however, that journey proved not only difficult but also incredibly expensive. We considered putting the research on hold, but old friends and business partners offered to aid us in this noble cause. One of the main sponsors will be Valir and Vena Starfury…"

Jude choked on the champagne he'd been drinking, causing several heads to turn in his direction. He turned around, coughing as silently as possible, dying inside, while James and Pierre covering him with their bodies.

"Jules, you’re causing drama."

Taking several feel breaths and wiping the tears off his cheeks, he finally retook his place, facing his father, who was thanking the family’s “old friends and generous benefactors.” 

"What a circus," James sighed. "Are we really so broke we have to partner with them?"

"It's good PR," Pierre hid his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I suppose.” 

“How does it feel to see your nemeses again?”

Jude shrugged, watching Tyril’s parents intently. Vena still looked like a ghost, wearing a red, long, elegant dress, her thin arms wrapped around her husband’s. “I was at their party last week.”

“And you’re still in one piece?”

“I’m afraid Tyril isn’t, he hasn’t returned any of my calls since then.”

James eyed Vena inquiringly. “She does look like she’s grieving.”

“That’s just her face,” Pierre mumbled and took a seat, the exhaustion and alcohol finally catching up with his mind. “Let’s just hope this announcement means the party’s ending.” 

Nils rubbed his tired eyes, thankful that the party had come to an end. Social events were his wife’s forte, he was more than happy to be an arm candy. 

He eyed his youngest son up. "It's mutually beneficial. No stupid shenanigans," he pointed a finger at him. 

"Too late for that," Jude smirked to himself, before he thought of what he'd just said. 

"Julian, God as my witness, I will disown you if you're involved with that boy again."

He rolled his eyes theatrically, hoping nobody could sense his fear. "I meant Adira, chill, dad. We were making out on the terrace and a reporter caught us when we were about to—"

"Spare me the details," he cut him off curtly. "I warn you, Julian."

"Fine, I promise not to suck off the one that shall not be named in this house's dick, daddy. You might wanna take up with mom the drug distribution, though," he put the key on the table. "The disappointment is leaving the premises, see you when you need good press," he said with tongue in cheek. With his back towards his family, he sent them a peace sign before the door closed. He sighed with relief.

Thursday

The longed-for six in the afternoon approached and the sea of sweaty students flooded out of the field into the locker room, loudly discussing their plans for the weekend, making plans to hang out, talking about the English test. As always, Tyril sat down on the bench, waiting patiently for everyone else to leave, so he can take a quick shower and go home. The room emptied after more or less twenty minutes, therefore, he hung the towel over his shoulder and reached for the bag with toiletries when he heard shuffling. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Tyril's brows furrowed upon hearing the stream of swear words and despite his initial instinct to leave and not get caught up in other people's business, his legs were already leading him towards the last row of brand-new red, metal lockers. Seconds later, his eyes came across a tall, lean kid, clutching his right hand. 

His mouth produced a sentence before he could stop himself. "Do you need help?" 

Startled, the boy staggered back, hitting the locker's door with his elbow, which resulted in another wave of curses hitting Tyril's ears. Only then, he noticed blood dripping from the hand his companion was clutching.

"Get lost and don't even think of calling anyone," the blonde responded, wrapping the hand in the white shirt he took off his back. Not convincing enough to make Tyril leave, though. 

"You've left a trail of blood in your way, I don't need to tell anyone for them to notice."

“Shit,” the stranger concluded, realizing Tyril was right. He ruffled his already messy hair with the healthy hand and sighed loudly, trying to come up with a plan of how to get home without making any more mess and avoiding getting unwanted help. His eyes landed on Tyril, who stood astride with his hands crossed on his chest. “It’s fine, go back to what you were doing.”

“What did you even do?”

“Let it go.”

“Would you let it go if someone needed help?”

The boy gave Tyril an angry look. Making sure the stranger wouldn't run away, Tyril excused himself for a moment—in the meantime, Julian stepped back into the shower room and began cleaning up the mess hastily, not paying attention to the damage he was making. In a twisted, way the glass shards cutting through his skin felt almost pleasant, deserved, a feeling that was an old friend returning after a long separation. He threw the shards into the nearest bin and ripped several paper towels to wipe the blood off the white tiles when he heard a voice behind himself.

"I brought alcohol wipes and a bandage if you're still interested," Tyril said mockingly and immediately bit his tongue. 

"I'm Julian, by the way," the blonde spoke up. Tyril opened his mouth to introduce himself, but Julian intercepted him. "You're the Starfury kid, I know you. Your folks funded the library."

Slightly embarrassed and suddenly shy, Tyril didn’t look up from the cut. A few drops of blood fell onto his trousers.

“Shit, sorry,” Julian mumbled. “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

“No need. There, it should be fine until you get home,” Tyril responded, having tied up the bandage and looked up at his companion, only now realizing how scrutinisingly he’d been watched all this time.  

"Thanks, nurse. I guess you’re not as much of a stuck-up dick as they say.”

“Great, just what we needed,” James mumbled, seeing a tall figure enter the spacious living room. The man quickly made his way towards the open terrace door, wondering who was Jude’s guest. The second he stepped outside, he sneered.

“I’ve been calling you all week,” Tyril addressed his half-naked boyfriend who, pretending not to hear, continued to smoke his cigarette, watching the New York’s skyline. “Jude.”

“He’s completely fucked up—"

"I can see that, but what, pray tell, are you doing here?"

"Playing your boyfriend's sitter again while the two of you keep sneaking around to fuck in the closet. Where the hell've you been all week?"

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Tyril let out a tired sigh. James was one of his least-favourite people in the world. "Stop acting like you're doing me a favour, James, because we both know you're here only to make yourself feel better."

"Yet I'm still here while you've been cosying up to your ex fiancée— or was it that stray you fucked in seven different states?"

"What the fuck is your problem, James?"

"I'm tired of fixing him once you're done playing his boyfriend! Look at him! Are you proud of what you're doing to him? Take a good look, Ty, ‘cause I don't think the last time taught you anything."

"Just shut the fuck up, both of you," Jude scolded them, rubbing his eyes and finally turning around to face the fighting men. "Just shut up. I’m fine."

Having put out his cigarette, he approached Tyril and placed a short kiss on his lips, then made his way towards the kitchen. 

James shook his head. "You two bring out the worst in each other."

“Weren't you the one who partied with him for years?”

“I was also the one who took him to rehab, dickhead.”

“How noble of you to fix what you’ve broken.”

“Oh, piss off. Since you’re here, I’m heading home.”

“You’re high,” Tyril stated as he looked into his boyfriend’s dilated pupils. Jude’s eyes fogged for yet another time that night, and he had to avert his gaze. “Why?”

Jude shrugged. “Rough week, I guess?”

“Julian, don’t play dumb.”

“Then don't ask stupid questions.”

Tyril’s jaw tightened. “Alright, I have a better question—what happened back then in the locker room? What the hell did you do?”

“Oh fucking—, you just won’t drop it, will you?” Jude laughed, desperately, while his fingers tugged at the ends of his ruffled hair. Tyril noticed how his body trembled and wondered whether it’s caused by the drugs or the emotions. “I smashed the mirror with my hand! Does that answer satisfy you?! I got into an argument with my mother over the phone, and she pissed me off to such a degree,” his voice echoed within the empty halls. “I ruptured a nerve. It was sawn back together, but the damage was done,” he added quietly after a moment of silence. “The nerve is damaged, irreparable, and that shit hurts, Ty. Becoming addicted to opioids is a matter of time.”

Jude sprawled on the sofa, having suddenly felt dizzy and overwhelmed by the emotions. Tyril observed him, recollecting the memory of that day.

“Wouldn’t rupturing a nerve hurt much more?”

Praying in his mind that Jude won’t take that question as offence, Tyril slumped against the nearest wall with his back. It was too late for an argument, and Jude was already exasperated enough.

“Yeah, well, I made sure shit’ll stain when you left.”

“Can I see?”

Silence. Jude watched him for a while, silently, and Tyril was about to apologize for asking when his boyfriend agreed. When he took Julian’s arm in his hands, the first thing he noticed was a vertical scar, straight and pale, about ten centimetres long with barely perceptible tiny dots on each side. “It’s impossible not to notice, so how the hell did I manage to do that?”

“To be fair, I do a decent job in hiding it.”

Stupid. Tyril felt like an idiot, and, to crown it all, a selfish one. He really did only care about himself and noticed only what he wanted to. 

Focusing his gaze on the open balcony door which let in the chilly wind, he desperately leafed through his memory, trying to find at least one connected to that incident which he might have ignored, but to no avail. 

“Does your hand always twitch like this?”

“Yes, but usually not as hard.”

“Is that why you got addicted in the first place?”

Jude nodded. They sat in silence for a while, slightly shivering, Jude from the drugs, Tyril from the cold, pondering over what just happened. Tyril felt guilty. Maybe if he had found the time to see him, this wouldn't happen. Maybe if they hadn’t met, Jude’s life would be much better. Jude wondered if he did the right thing by telling Tyril the truth, knowing that he’d feel guilty, but he quickly cast that thought aside when he felt a wave of exhaustion wash all over him. 

“I won’t go back into rehab, Ty,” he mumbled indistinctly. Tyril watched him until he fell asleep on the sofa and covered him with a blanket.

Despite the exhaustion, Tyril did not get a wink of sleep that night, too anxious that his boyfriend would choke on his own vomit. Feeling helpless, he called the only person who could actually help. Adeline appeared at Jude’s doorstep minutes before six in the morning with two paper shopping bags filled to the brim.

"You have one hell of a nerve to ask for my help.”

"Why are you here, then?"

"I still have some respect left for Julian," she said, looking at his half-naked, unconscious body. "Unlike himself."

"Did you buy—"

"Of course I did, drop the stupid questions," she grunted, and made her way to the kitchen where she began unpacking the bags. "Take him to bed, we'll start tomorrow. He’ll probably wake up by the evening, make sure he eats, drinks a lot of water, and does not go to another party."

Tyril nodded, watching her gracious movements for a few more seconds before taking his boyfriends body into his arms and making his way towards the bedroom. Once his pale body was tucked in, Tyril pressed his lips to Jude’s temple.

"Stay," Jude mumbled, faintly catching his boyfriend's hand. Tyril crouched next to the bed and placed a kiss on his hand, waiting for him to fall back asleep.

"Why did you let him fall back like that, moron?" Adeline punched her exfiancé’s arm once he got close enough. She was furious. "How could you let that happen, knowing that we have done this before and that he was in rehab?!"

"Adeline, I'm not his guardian! We couldn't meet this week and—"

"Always excuses. You're never guilty."

"That's not true and you know that. During our relationship, I always took the blame."

"Not always, just when you were wrong, which happened most of the time," she mocked and resumed putting the groceries away. "You don't deserve good people in your life. It's truly a mystery to me how you get them. You destroy everyone."

He clenched his fists. "What do you mean?"

Adeline eyed him for a while in silence. Her action was disturbed by the fridge reminder to close the door. "Julian never hid that what pushed him towards his infamous drug-spree and joining that stupid club in London was your breakup. You cut him off, even though you had every possibility to keep in touch. Then, after many years of relationship, you basically left me at the altar to run away with a random whore. And what about her? Why aren't you with her, since she was so important to you? Did you manage to destroy her as well in a week?"

He crossed his arms, his eyes dropping to the floor. "Selene was already destroyed."

"And you left her."

"No, she left me "

"Serves you right."

"God, can you stop already? I get it, I hurt you, and I'm sorry—"

"That's the thing, Tyril,” she cut him off. “You think you're sorry, but you don't understand how it works. You're sorry about the consequences of your actions, not about the actions themselves. You keep making the same mistakes, hurting people in the exact same way, and you're offended they take that damn offence!"

“Adeline, I don’t want to fight,” he sighed, tiredly.

“Good, you’re in no position to argue with what I’ve just said. I’m not interested in your excuses.”

Friday

Back to the old ways? St. Clair & entourage cruising NY’s nightclubs  

St. Clair: loved-up and simper in Manhattan’s Fleur Room

Adeline sighed, reading the headlines of two of the most popular gossip magazines. Jude, very much unlike Tyril, enjoyed his status of a celebrity. It was an easy way of getting whatever and wherever he wanted, especially when drugs were involved. Interviews, photoshoots, and his blossoming music career, kept him entertained. This was the exact reason for the first rumours.

Someone noticed that where Jude was, Tyril was as well. Tyril accompanied his boyfriend to photoshoots, to interviews, to parties. When asked about it, he’d just laugh it off but never denied, which only fuelled the rumours. 

Adeline put his phone away and smiled at Jude, who’d just woken up and took a seat next to him on the bar stool.

"How are we feeling today, Julian?"

"Weak as a baby, and I'm certain my head will explode any minute, thanks for asking! How are you?"

"No vomiting?"

"Not now—I’ve prayed to the porcelain god all night."

Adeline's brows slightly furrowed. "Where's Tyril?"

"Making up for lost sleep. He stayed up all night with me, probably making sure I didn't choke on my own puke and die and end this circus and—"

"Stop talking," she cut him off, demandingly, and placed a glass of water and a handful of vitamins and supplements next to his face. "Tyril and I wouldn't be here if we didn't care about you. We're here to help you get better, but if you stop cooperating, I will drag you to the nearest rehab by your hair."

"Okay, fine! Take it easy, girl." 

He swallowed the pills obediently, winking at Adeline, trying to defuse the tension hanging in the air. They both knew the worst was still before them. They’ve been there before. They knew the messy part was yet to come.

In the meantime, though, they smiled at each other softly. “Thanks for helping, Addy.”

[intimashe]

blog update - a bit about me x my loa journey

in this post, i’ll be discussing - my spiritual/loa/manifesting journey - what i’ve managed to manifest and how

this will be a bit long and rambly, so be warned! i at least hope my journey will help somebody out there, so i highlighted the important bits :)

my loa journey

hello, all! my name is lexi, and I’ve been using the law of assumption (loa) for about 4 years now, or well, since 2020. i made this blog in 2021 when i turned 18, and i haven’t really posted ever since (despite the fact i constantly practice the law LOL). now that i’m 21, i’d like to post my research, findings, and practices on this blog :) i read a lot of spiritual content both online and offline, so i’d like to use this blog as an outlet for all my thoughts.

anyways, i started my spiritual journey thanks to a shit breakup (it be like that sometimes). i delved deep into shadow work and worked with subliminals and the law of attraction for a bit, for about the first year of my journey. personally, i felt like the law of attraction didn’t give me much clarity. with the law of attraction, i felt i was giving the “universe” (or any higher power really) the power to grant me my desires. however, once i found the law of assumption soon after, i felt that i was finally in control, and i could call on my desires without having to wait to be “given” them.

so, how do i use the law of assumption?

tapping into the feelings i would have as if i had my desire 

assuming i have my desire even if it wasn’t showing up in the 3D

persisting in the idea (delusion) that i have my desire 

overall, fully knowing i have my desire 

i know these phrases sound pretty vague and are commonly used throughout the loa community, especially in the teachings of neville goddard. honestly, i haven’t looked into his teachings yet, so forgive me, this explanation will be very personal to me and my own journey.

i’ve pretty much manifested every job i’ve ever had since i turned 18, so let’s use that as an example:

first, when thinking about my desired job opportunity, i would take some time to focus on the feelings i would feel if i received that job offer. for example, i would sit, close my eyes and imagine feeling content, abundant, financially stable, and grateful as if i got my job offer letter. personally, gratitude works the best for me, since it gives me the most hope and leaves me less attached to wanting my desire. thinking about how badly i want something makes me feel anxious, insecure, etc. worrying always emphasized the fact that i didn't have my desire, whereas sitting down and eliciting feelings of fulfillment for x amount of time would give me a sense of peace.

i would also imagine what it would be like to have the job. i’m a chronic daydreamer, so to make my maladaptive daydreaming somewhat productive, i would sit and imagine in first-person pov what i would physically do if i worked at that job. for example, i manifested a job in healthcare, so i imagined putting on my scrubs, thinking about getting ready at x time, walking into the clinic/hospital, etc. i also manifested an artsy job a few years ago, so i imagined painting for clients, needing to complete commissions or buy materials, etc. 

and lastly, i would let go. personally, i’ve found that the hardest part is letting go. after sitting with these feelings, i would (hopefully) feel fulfilled by the end of this practice. then, i would continue living my regular-degular life without worrying or thinking about how my desire was going to come to fruition. it’s hard to explain, but i would consider my desire to be fully fulfilled no matter the circumstances. it feels like this ultimate knowing and faith that my desire is destined to be, and i would persist in that ultimate knowing.

of course, at times, i would have doubts. having doubts is normal, well, for me at least. this is when my affirmations and self-concept work will kick in. i’ll start affirming to myself that “i have all my desires,” “life is so easy and convenient,” “everything always works in my favor,” etc, etc. honestly, a lot of my affirmations felt like i was lying to myself at first, but overtime with constant repetition, they became easier to believe. and eventually, i started seeing real changes in my 3D, as crazy as that sounds. besides, why would i actively choose to be my own worst enemy? in a world with infinite possibilities, i’d rather affirm positively to myself (even if it feels like lying), instead of keeping myself in the same cycles of repeated misery.

well, there’s my haphazard explanation of how i manifest and my loa journey. i’ve been deep-diving into becoming supernatural by joe dispenza and reality shifting, so expect posts on that sooner or later teehee <3 thanks for reading!

[mitamicah]

Just some transmasc news about this transmasc dude trying to get help with some transmasc things

TLDR; 

1) I still don’t know when I can start hrt and I might not know for months (which in turn means that I might still be declined or only get started on t in late 2024 or early 2025).

2) I’m thinking about going private with my top surgery and depending on how quickly my friends answer me about wanting to go to Sweden with me as moral support I might have my first consultation with the surgeon this year (way faster than expected)

Long story under the line

Let’s start with a bit of context:

I’m a 28 year old transmasc person seeking hormone replacement therapy and top surgery. (Top surgery is my top priority but HRT are a very close second and only seems more right for me every day). So far I’ve been persuing these two wishes through the public healthcare system with the focus rn being on starting testosterone.

Back in May I had my last therapy appointment about possibly starting t where I was told that my case would be taking up as the next available conference date (the meeting where they discuss my case) and that I’d know when that would be asap. That turned out to be August 9 and I’d get the verdict the day after August 10. If I got accepted I was told that there can go up to 8 months of pre-planning where I’d have to have blood taken, my body and hormone levels checked and all that fun stuff.

Now for top surgery  have been a bit more of a bumpy ride so far all because of my weight. I’ve never been that skinny and while most of my life I have had a sort of high BMI it has been in the normal range. Given that I’d been forgotten by the clinic there was a 4 month wait between my first and second appointment for a therapy session at the clinic. Around this time my grandmother died and I dealt with a lot of changes in my live that in retrospect was way too much for me to handle so I find myself calming my nerves by eating a bit more than usual. And so come february I now had a BMI around 29,5 where the cut off for top surgery at the GC was 27. I was told that I had to lose at least 5 kg to be offered surgery. Three months later after restricting my food intake (no more candy/cake and smaller portions mostly) I’d managed to lose 9 kg so my BMI was now under the cut off (but in the high end around 26). My therapist were thrilled yet still ended the session by saying that I probably had to lose weight again after starting testosterone since a known side effect is putting on weight.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, I want to give you an idea for what have been weighing (pun intended) on my mind. And taken into account that there’s probably 2 years since the GC would even as much as think about offering me surgery, being told over and over that even when I am doing something right it still might not be enough to get this life changing intervention is tough.

And so I’ve thought about going private with the top surgery. There is a private clinic not far from here (Sweden) that is well known for their good results with top surgery for transmasculine people. As a bonus they don’t have the same strict rules about your weight (I read that maybe they’d be careful if your BMI was over 34 but that’s still way higher than having 27 as your cut off).

Now all that context is out of the way what are my news:

HRT

On August 10 I had hoped to know whether or not I could start t. Instead I was told that one person in the personel was on vacation so the team couldn’t tell me whether I can start testosterone or not. Instead, I would get a message about a possible new conference as soon as they knew more. Me loving to have a bit of a time frame I asked how long the person’s holiday would be and I was told two weeks. On August 24 aka two weeks later I then started my inner clock trying to figure out how much time to give them so I wouldn’t seem impatient and needy. 

When around 9 days had passed since August 24 I grew very wary and vocal about said wariness. I for one made the mistake (?) of mentioning it at a trans meet up where everybody then jumped at me to call the clinic as soon as possible because the clinic had probably forgotten me by now and so my case would be as good as dropped. 

And so I called the clinic today to be told that they hadn’t forgotten me (luckily). The thing is they are very busy (which is fair, given the lack of ressources) and so there might not be time for another conference for me this year and if so they wont send me a message before next year. 

So yeah - in the worst case scenario the line will be dead between me and the genderclinic for MONTHS only for me to randomly get a message with a time for a conference sometime in 2024. 

Given the pre-planing for hormones I might not be able to start testosterone before late 2024 or maybe even early 2025 cutting it very close to my personal goal that is to start hormones before I turn 30 (for no reason other than having a time frame).

Top surgery

At the same trans meet up event where I was told to call the clinic today, we got talking about BMI restrictions for trans affirming care. It was everything from being declined therapy sessions (if you had a BMI over 30) down to being less than 1kg (2 pounds) over the cut off for top surgery. Honestly, hearing all these stories made me certain that I wanted to try reaching out to the Swedish private clinic about a possible first consultation.

Given I was already calling one clinic today I decided to book for the other as well. And here I got a pleasant surprise: I had heard that there are quite a waiting list for pre-op consultations and so I could look forward to wait 7 months or more. Well, when I went to book an appointment there were available appointment NEXT MONTH (only one tbf but there were three in November). So if I am quick enough I might get a consultation this very year. Mind you this wouldn’t nesecarily mean that I can get my top surgery this year (probably not tbh), but it is way more promising than not knowing if you’d even get to have an appointment for HRT (that everybody but one person had agreed I could get) within the year.

There’s off course a “but” here as well:

I kind of want to have company with me to Sweden since going alone seems a little scary even as a 28 year old. I had talked about possibly going with my friends (who are a lesbian couple) yet since I only now decided to actually act on my wishes for the surgery through the private clinic I haven’t spoken to them about going to Sweden this winter. And so I just send them a voice message with my question about whether or not they’d accompany me and hoping to hear from them soon so I can hopefully get one of the times available before the end of the year.

So that’s all the news I have - one goodish and one baddish - I guess everything needs to be in balance :’D