#I don't think it qualifies as a hallucination because it's not like I see anything

[saberboi-2]

.

[phantoms-autistic-hands]

HERE'S THE OUTLINE ABOUT THIS BRAINWORM

i haven't rly thought of a name for my OC so i'm just gonna use the placeholder name jean for now [after Jean Vic. don't @ me on this]. he might not even end up french tho we'll see…… anyway he was a sailor (don't ask me for further details, it's blurry. it's Real blurry) and he just got back from a voyage but he was discharged from the navy.

what happened during the voyage was he got into a relationship with a higher ranking officer and they were close but was pursuing their relationship knowing that when they get to land they won't be able to continue it (not if the officer wanted to stay in his social circles) buuut it was kind of an open secret on the ship. then there was an Accident, in which the higher ranking officer died (yes i'm going down the dead lover cliche pathway--shhh it's for the plot later). so when the higher ups were looking into the death, they found out about their relationship, which is why the discharge from the navy [[listen. i think at this point france has decriminalized homosexuality but i have no clue what it's like in the navy. so i'm assuming it's the don't ask don't tell thing. so don't @ me on this. or do, i would Love to know if anyone knows]]

so heartbroken and out of a job jean found a job vacancy of being a stagehand at the opera house. his job would be way down below the stage or way up above stage, and the job requirements reminds him of finding his way on a ship, so he's doing just fine with this. he does his job well enough, keeps his head down, tries to be friendly when he can.

after a while of doing bits and pieces here and there and he's established himself, the new chief stagehand gives him the main job of maintaining the area on the mezzanine floor where joseph buquet was killed (i'm smooshing leroux canon and alw canon together here btw. canon is toy blocks for me to pick and choose) since a lot of stagehands avoid that place like a plague. it's not out of malice, it's just that they all realize that jean doesn't rly believe in superstitions or ghosts so they're all like why not? he's knows about the stories but since he doesn't believe in ghosts (and thinks that anything about phantom as an actual dude is an exaggeration of events to attract patrons) he's like eh, alright.

all this happens while jean suspects that he's definitely traumatized by the events that happened during his voyage, obviously. he knows of stories of what happens to people who's traumatized enough. at this point in time he's given in to talking out loud to his dead lover when he's alone, so this is how one day erik heard him through that trapdoor into his home (/torture chamber). when erik tries to scare him off by speaking to him in a disembodied voice, jean Naturally thought that his trauma has given him auditory hallucinations. he at first breaks down about this because he thought he was doing better mentally, but this is a sure sign he isn't doing that great actually.

erik, absolutely confused about this reaction, decides to show himself physically after some time, just to prove to jean that he's not Actually having auditory hallucinations. but jean first mistook him for a lost patron, and is like sir u can't be here without supervision?? and jean's worried he'd lose his job if someone catches a patron wandering down here with only jean watching him bc he sure as hell ain't qualified to give patrons a tour below stage. but erik would mysteriously disappear any time anyone comes close to them. cue a whole bunch of meetings like this bc erik's lonely and this man new to the opera thinks he's a patron and treats him like a normal man and he's been starved of company ever since christine left and the mob hunted him done and he stopped bothering the opera

so they get closer. jean's half worried that erik's a hallucination, since he disappears a lot and is never seen by anybody else but jean, but he seems so real……

they get to a point where erik tells jean of christine and they bond over having lost someone they loved. erik speaks longingly of his dreams of being married and having a wife to go on sunday walks with

at this time jean is a little (a Lot) in love with him and gets his heart shattered into pieces bc god damn it he wants a wife Of Course he'd want a Wife...........

and then somehow erik finds out that jean is in love with Someone and he asks about it (somehow feeling something like Rage and Something Else because jean? in love? WHO WOULD CAPTURE THIS MAN'S ATTENTION? WHO DARES? WHO DESERVES IT?) and jean is like its of no matter (because he thinks erik wouldn't reciprocate. he's not the exactly right gender)

then jean spends a long time thinking it over and realizes that even if erik doesn't return his feelings, erik seems like someone who would benefit from being told that in this world Someone does loves him, even if he [erik] doesn't love jean back. so he tells him and it takes a while to convince erik of it but then erik remembers that jean said his love for erik is "no matter" and goes batshit about it bc does this mean he doesn't matter to jean????

and jean tells erik that it does matter. it matters to him a lot. erik matters to him a lot. but he can't give erik what he wants, their relationship would not exactly be an open one. it would be some secret thing, at the very least half hidden from society. he won't impose that on erik when he knows erik wants his little walks in the park with his lover........ erik's showing the 404 error code.

anyways idk how it goes from here but they'll get together. i swear

[sunny-haven]

hey!

getting into hypnosis and scrooling through your blog. You said that you have one of your (clients? friends? i can remember which) hypnotized to see you as a drago/ your dragonform? how does that work? is it visual hypnosis akin to imagining it over you or an actual visual halucination?

sorry if thats a lot, im just- very curious <3

-@starhypnosis

Yeah, I've been able to hypnotize a couple of my friends to see my fursona as if I was there - all of the hypnosis I do is online so when I say "as if I was there", I mean like if I was there in-person. And it's an actual visual hallucination. If I wanted to hug them, I could make them see and feel my dragon self hugging them. Same with cuddles, wrapping them up in my tail, being fucked... for the most part, whatever I can think of. It's honestly my favorite way to hypnotize people and whenever I do a session with someone who's unable to see me in that way, it always feels a little incomplete to me.

I don't really know what makes someone qualify to be able to hallucinate with hypnosis like that. I've met a decent amount of people who can experience imposition/phantom touch, but it's rare that I'm able to meet someone who can easily visually hallucinate with hypnosis. Which sucks, honestly, you think I'd know by now after doing this for several years.

Often I'll call this version of my fursona that my hypnotees can see my "puppet", because I'm essentially puppeting around a hallucination of my fursona to interact with my subjects. And one thing I often like doing is when I'm not talking to the subject and thus am not going to be using my puppet, she'll have a bit of sentience, mostly to just interact with my friends in small ways (cuddling them and otherwise being wholesome is common). Also to tease my friends lots. It's not to the point where my puppet is a fully-fledged personality, though. And everyone I've done this with has enjoyed it lots.

Whenever I am interacting with someone using my puppet, it looks pretty much like roleplaying via text, except it's me describing what I'm doing to my subject and my subject describing how they've responded, as well as anything I wouldn't be able to see but they would. Because I'm not seeing anything. Over a voice call it's a little different, often I'll say something like "I'm going to pick you up and hug you," or "my puppet will pick you up and hug you," and I use "I" and "my puppet" interchangeably. It's a little weird but I got used to it pretty quickly.

A loooot of the hypnosis I do nowadays deals with this kind of thing and it's helped a lot with developing my fursona and thus what I identify as and how I want to express myself. I focus a lot on the senses when I hypnotize others and being able to actually interact with my subjects via proxy makes it a lot more enjoyable, with the next most enjoyable thing being doing a session in-person. I haven't had the time, courage, or ability to visit my subjects in-person as of yet though, which is why I focus so much on this kind of thing.

That was pretty long-winded but I hope that answers your question! And no need to apologize, I'm happy to answer these kinds of questions ^w^

[realityandrebirth]

Summary: After watching the ninja fail to reform Morro, Ronin decides to step in and take care of the problem.

Warnings: Drowning, attempted murder.

Prompts: Fear of Water/Bridge

Morrotober: Day Twenty-Seven

Morro had never been so scared in either of his lives, and not during his time being dead, either. He tried to calm himself; sure, he was tied up, bound in vengestone cuffs, and dangling upside-down mere inches above the rushing river, but Ronin was the ninja's ally, sometimes, most of the time, he hoped. Surely they could make him see reason.

If they ever showed up.

"Huh," Ronin said, peering down at him from the bridge. "I kinda thought someone would at least, y'know, pretend to care."

Morro twisted in his binds, swinging back and forth on the rope, but to no avail. "You really think you're going to get away with this?" he snarled, though his voice was pitched high in fear.

"I mean, I've gotten away with worse." Ronin shrugged. "I'm probably doing them a favor, getting rid of a little creep like you. Don't know why they're bothering to try and reform you."

It was because Wu couldn't let go of the son he never had, just like Morro couldn't help but wish for a family he didn't deserve. Morro bit back a retort and continued to struggle.

He looked up again to see Ronin holding a knife against the rope. "Any last words?"

What Morro should have said was something, anything to prove that he wasn't the same person he was when he orchestrated the destruction of Stiix.

What he actually said was, "I should have let Soul Archer take you."

And then he hit the water.

The only thought in his mind was that he was going to die. The river roared around him, tumbling him around and around until he had screamed out all his air, hastening his drowning in his terror. He was going to die, and he was going to die having never been kind to anyone, having never felt happiness in either of his miserable lives.

He didn't believe it when the water spit him out on the shore–surely the blue sky was a hallucination brought on by a lack of oxygen. Then he inhaled, and there was fresh air to fill his lungs and replace the water he was coughing out.

"Are you alright?"

Morro blinked rapidly. "Water Ninja?" he croaked.

Nya sawed through the ropes around his chest and legs while he lay there gasping. "The others are dealing with Ronin," she said, spitting the thief's name like a curse. "He's lucky if I ever speak to him again, that bastard."

"He said you weren't coming.

"We thought you got arrested again." Nya fumbled with the vengestone cuffs until they unlocked with a click and she pulled them off. "Didn't realize you'd been kidnapped until later. I'm just glad we weren't too late. Get up."

Morro didn't move. Exhaustion weighed down his limbs, and he was content to lie there shivering until the cold killed him instead of the water. "Why?"

"What, do you want me to carry you?"

"Why did you save me?"

Nya huffed. "What, like Ronin's qualified to be judge, jury, and executioner? If you deserved to die, you would've stayed dead the first time." She put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him up to a sitting position. "Come on, Wu's freaking out."

Somehow, Morro got his feet underneath him. Somehow, he hobbled to the Bounty, leaning on Nya to stay upright. Somehow, he wrapped his arms around Wu and accepted the love from the man he used to call his father.

And the flicker within him–the smallest resolve to change and redeem himself–somehow, the water had not extinguished it, and it burned brighter than it ever had.

[starseverance]

how do you realize theyre with you in 'spirit' or however you mean it? or how did you find out? becayse tl;dr, im seeing this character irl when hes fiction/or was fiction, what do i classify him as?

because ive had this one f/o for almost 4 years (i consider his char reveal date to be our anniversary) now, and around the 2nd year i started 'hallucinating' him i think? or dreaming? im not diagnosed with anything but ive had hallucinations for years off and on, and ever since his character was introduced ive felt really attached to him. i started seeing him in my dreams and symbols about him around, like i noticed i was seeing objects or things that reminded me of him/that were related to him a lot more. then i started hallucinating him, its not constant or anything, but i can sometimes talk to him in my head, feel his breath on my neck when im trying to go to sleep, see glimpses of him irl, etc. i dont know what to call it, i tried talking to someone about it before and they treated it like he was a bad thing and it didnt make me feel good. i consider him a positive thing in my life and my irl partner but they were looking for ways to get rid of him, so ive kept it to myself until now. what do i classify this as?

Hi hi Anon!

I don't feel qualified to offer any suggestions as to your experience, but I can share a little bit about mine in hopes that it will help.

Prior to my involvement with my F/O, I knew very little about spirit work. I had been experiencing some feelings of connection to him that went beyond just a fictional crush. I've never been able to see him, although over the years I've improved in my abilities to hear, feel, and sense him. I have to verbally communicate to him, which he can hear and respond to.

I'm sorry that you have had to keep this to yourself in fear of others invalidating you and trying to get rid of your F/O. However you chose to label your experiences, know that you're valid!

[butch-kaz]

I hope that this ask is within the scope of what you're happy to answer. I saw a post you made a few years ago where you talked about some of your experiences with psychosis (you talked about someone thinking it was funny to lie to you and trigger you. I'm so sorry that happened to you!). I wondered if you'd be willing to talk a bit about things that help to ground you and what other people can do to help you feel supported around this?

A family member I love dearly has been experiencing psychosis for a number of years now, and even though she has a medical team that she trusts, I feel like there's been very little guidance for me in how to best support her. I've been figuring it out as I go, and I think I've done ok, but it's really hard for me to ask her these kinds of questions because her self awareness around her distorted beliefs is pretty low. Obviously what works for you might not help her but it might give me a perspective I hadn't considered.

I'm also a little curious about how you're able to "hold on to" the knowledge that you experience psychosis; my loved one often became upset when I tried to talk explicitly about her beliefs being disconnected from reality, and she rejected the part of her diagnosis that addressed her delusions. (I don't try to bring that up now, since it doesn't seem to be helpful. I only gently assert my own experiences and beliefs if she brings up ideas that conflict with them.) Please don't answer these questions if reflecting on it will be triggering for you, but if you can and would like to talk about it: What is it like for you to be aware that you can't always trust what you believe? Have there been times when you weren't aware, and if so, what was that like?

Again, I hope that I'm not out of line asking you about this. I want to understand what's going on for my loved one better, and there's so little information out there that centres the experiences of people who actually have psychosis.

hiya! thanks for the ask.

i definitely think my situation is wildly different from your loved one’s- over the years, with the right medications and treatments, my symptoms have very drastically changed. i don’t think I or the doctors who treated me can really say why, maybe some medication reactions or just a removal from the scary environment i lived in. these days i experience muted versions of my former psychotic breaks, like… instead of full blown hallucinations i feel phantom pains, that sort of thing. as for why i remember, idk! every1 is different.

all that explains why i am absolutely not qualified to help you. if your relative or her doctors haven’t told you anything they’d like you to do with regards to her care, just try to treat her like any other member of your family, be kind, don’t infantilize- those are general statements that can apply to any disabled person, and it sounds to me like you’re already doing them, so in my opinion you’re on the right track.

but to answer your questions:

i am grounded by textures. carpet on my bare back, raking my fingers through my hair, even some gentle pains like pinching my arms. i am grounded by distractions. folding laundry, doing dishes, methodical tasks that don’t require brain power but do require intentional movements. yoga is good for this.

i did not always trust my sense of reality, and sometimes i’m still unsure. i’m a stubborn bitch though and i’ll push my way through just about anything. once i worked an eight hour retail stint near christmas time and couldn’t stop seeing a traumatic event replaying out in front of me, but fake it til you make it! i talked to customers like it wasn’t even there.

holding onto reality is something very unique to every person, for me it felt like two realities were colliding and i had to discern which one was the right one. i was lucky that most of my delusions were made of the same shit, i could recognize the lighting/faces/details that were not regular and ignore everything else. it took time to develop that skill.

however, you’re never going to help anyone if you’re out here worrying and researching and killing yourself when you could be just sitting next to her. focus on putting one foot in front of the other and try to remember what makes her happy & healthy. remember to take care of yourself too. that’s the best you as a non-medical professional! i’m sending love your way.

[umiarumi]

fucking three houses | lorenz hellman gloucester

the whole reason i wrote this collection was because of an inside joke. "wouldnt slut shaming lorenz be funny?"

The resounding tune of the clock striking noon echoed around the monastery, prompting you to perk up from your studies. Usually, you studied in solitude. As outgoing as your allies made you, you always held onto that ease and pleasure being alone supplied you. With how lust-induced your recent activities had been, a little peace and quiet would do you some well-deserved good.

You shut the book regarding tactics your professor had recommended you. The soft shuffles of former students leaving the library and hushed chatter reverberated around the room and halls. Of course, you were at war but there's always time to get better at what you do. You chuckled at the thought of some grizzled lady wielding a sword studying. Well, that is you after all!

Sliding the book back in its respective shelf, you hummed as you remembered Tomas. From what you gathered, the Tomas that the faculty knew was replaced. Unfortunate, but unsurprising knowing the enemies working behind the scenes.

You shifted your thoughts to your upcoming mission. Some scouting mission from the empire detected commotion in Garreg Mach. You huffed at the thought. Of course, you'd expect Edelgard to retaliate but damn, that was quick.

You shook your head, well, it was tea time! Noon meant the yard would be filled with people gossiping and sipping alike, the hobby so ingrained in them that they retained it through the war.

You walked past Seteth, nodding to him. He nodded back, cracking a soft smile. You'd rarely see that emotion! You giddily laughed as he turned the corner, pleased to see he was loosening up.

Walking down the stairs, you passed a rushing Lysithea who didn't even recognise you. You grinned, shaking your head. Always in a rush, that girl! Or, well, woman. She'd like that better.

Sauntering, you caught a glimpse of a certain purple and ginger-headed duo bickering. "Lee! Lorenz! Whatever is wrong, my dear friends?" You cheered, slinging your arms around the two. Leonie raised a brow at you, grinning, seemingly relieved at your arrival. Lorenz, on the other hand, froze up. "Although you may have connections to House Riegan, (Y/N)..." He grumbled, sighing.

"Oh chill, Lorenz!" You guffawed, shaking your head. He'd become considerably more agreeable, but God, he'll hold onto that 'treating commoners with his version of respect' ideal forever.

Leonie nodded with you. "Yeah, buddy." She pointedly looked at Lorenz, crossing her arms. "Well, apparently (Y/N), Lorenz thinks that he can't take me to tea because I'm 'unpleasant'". Hands now on her hips, she turned back to you.

You smirked. "Lovers quarrel?" You asked, shifting your weight.

"NO, DUMBASS!" "Absolutely not!"

You cackled at the yells, waving your hands in front of your face dismissively. They really did act like it!

"My bad, my bad... now, Leonie is a great dining partner! But... I doubt tea is even your thing." You offered, mockingly putting on a wise tone. She slowly nodded, realising you're right.

"Yeah! A good meal is better than tea. Thanks for seeing my point, (Y/N)." She slapped your back before, turning away. "I'll spend this time on training, can never get enough!" She waved goodbye to the two of you, although you supposed it was more to you.

Lorenz sighed, brushing his, admittedly less foul, hair out of his face. "I fail to see why you defend her." He muttered, looking to you. You raised a brow, tilting your head for that added 'what do you mean?' effect.

"Simply put, she wouldn't make a fair tea partner. She accused me of the reason being that she was a commoner, but it truly was not! I explained to her, but she seemed to have not appreciated my honesty, either." He pondered, lips pursing.

"Well, Lorenz! I think you need a lesson in manners." You bluntly asserted, placing your hands on your sides.

"Why I never-"

"Not that you don't have wonderful manners! However, your honesty can be jarring... you come off rude, man." You explained, patting his shoulder.

"So I am to lie?"

"Gah! No! Look, how about we discuss it over tea?" You suggested, exasperated. As intelligent as the dude is, his social cues with... commoners and the rest of us normal people are is abysmal!

He nodded. "A splendid notion! Shall we take this to my dorm? I feel as though the tea court will be filled by now. I also have some delectable flavours and tea sets!" He smiled, leading you away.

You yelped, catching up to him. What was the deal with guys walking briskly away from you?

~~~~

"Please, take a seat." He offered, pulling out a chair for you. You mumbled thanks, sitting down.

Crossing your legs, you hummed. Was this a curse? Was this going to end up in you fucking the most pretentious man? Well, the omniscient presence watching your every move knows the answers.

As he poured the tea into your embellished cup, you admired the colour. "How pretty! And the teacup compliments it!" You whispered in awe, looking back up to Lorenz. He smiled sweetly at you, almost in the way one would at a kitten or puppy.

"I'm glad you have a knack for spotting artistic factors in the simplest things." He said, sitting down opposite you.

"However, on our way here, I thought about something."

You gulped. How was your impending lecturing being turned on you?!

"Y-yes?" You stuttered, bringing the teacup to your mouth, sipping nervously on the steaming liquid.

He eyed you, before humming.

"I doubt you're the most qualified person to teach me about manners." He said, gauging your reaction. You halted sipping on your tea.

Collecting yourself, you placed your teacup back down. "Oh? Why would that be?" You questioned, fiddling with the tablecloth.

"Well, you seem to have time engaging in certain... promiscuous activities, that isn't exactly too innocent or polite." He murmured, sipping on his tea.

Your eyes bulged, hands antsy as they moved to your face to hide your shock.

"For someone so carefree to participate in such... activities in public, you sure do seem to hold a facade of modesty." He replied, watching you sternly.

"Yeah, imagine how it feels having someone know of this!" You gritted your teeth, clenching your arms.

He raised a brow, smiling crookedly. "Certainly you wouldn't mind. Considering you would do so on holy grounds. You and Claude seemed to have not cared. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole monastery heard you."

You gasped, moving to get out of your chair. You didn't need a lecture from Lorenz.

He stood up with you, challenging your gaze.

"When I told Leonie she wasn't well-kempt enough... I suppose you aren't any better." He smirked, watching you bite your lip anxiously.

"Damnit, what do you want!? Don't tell anyone, I'll do anything!" You pleaded, taking a step forward. Lorenz grinned at this, raising a brow. He walked around the table, coming to face you directly. You looked down, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Since you're so eager to offer. Perhaps I could partake in those services Claude recommended to you?" He whispered, hand coming to tilt your chin upwards. Your face erupted in a dark heat, your heart thumping.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz.

You collected yourself, giving him a sly grin as your hands found themselves around his neck. "Well, if you're interested in a free trial..." You hinted, swaying your hips.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz.

He gulped, smiling crookedly. "You strike a hard bargain, my fair lady. I suppose I'd have to indulge." He murmured, grabbing underneath your knee and pulling your leg up to his waist.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz.

"Then, please, take whatever you'd like."

Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck-

Your lips were captured by his own, as you soon felt your weight shift as your body was lifted from the ground. You wrapped your legs around him fully as you were set down on his plush bed

The kiss heated up passionately, feeling Lorenz palm you through your normal uniform. Being a Sunday, no war business was discussed and no armour was worn. He cupped your breasts.

"You're hardly pleasant, ever so brash and callous. But not to fear, I'll mould you into a fair woman. However, I'd say I prefer your unabashed promiscuousness." He hissed, stripping you of your uniform. Soon, your bra and underwear followed.

He shed his own casual uniform, for once in his life, not caring. That was proved as much as he dropped his uniform onto the mahogany floors.

You were pushed down onto the bed as you felt Lorenz slide on top of you, his already hard dick grinding against your slick cunt. You sighed, capturing his lips in a kiss once more.

His hands moved to your breasts, removing his mouth from your own only to kiss up the skin. Poking, squeezing, kissing, licking. He left no stone unturned, or in this case, no skin untouched. His apparent fixation on your breasts soon shifted to your darkened face. He simpered at his work.

"You will be good practice for the future. I suppose a whore such as yourself wouldn't oppose being treated with such behaviour." He proposed, his hands stroking up and down your sides.

"I... I'm not a whore!" You defended weakly. Yet any argument was soon washed away as he began to rub his dick up and down against your vagina.

"Oh? Ah, I see. So making love... no, I should say, carelessly fucking your former classmates one after another was just a hallucination?" He asked, the tip of his dick sliding into your walls for a split second before retreating.

"N-no, that's not what I meant!" You cried out, frustrated at the lack of stimulation.

"Ah, straight to denial, I see! You have skipped explaining and gone straight to denying your needy, sluttish behaviour." He groaned as he felt you pull him closer.

You cried out in frustration before looking away.

" F-fine! You're right that I'm a whore! I'm a whore who loves her classmate's dicks! Now please fuck me!" You moaned, exasperated.

"That's wonderful to hear."

And no sooner than he spoke did he thrust his dick right into your pussy, a silent moan escaping your open lips. He leant over you, feeling your tits press against him. Your legs rose and wrapped around his pistoning hips.

You struggled to get a full breath at the pace he was thrusting at, it sent your head spinning. You couldn't think, you could only feel as you were fucked silly by the one guy you could never like.

Yet, that distaste furthered your arousal.

"You are far from suitable for me. You.." He heaved as you clenched around him. "Naughty. You're brash, loud, unladylike... but you make a wonderful cocksleeve." He groaned into your ear, letting out soft moans.

You felt the coil in your stomach tighten at his words.

"Then... you're just like me! Sinking down... to my level just for some pussy?" You teased, slurring.

He smirked annoyedly. "Tch, I wouldn't say that in your position." He grunted out, holding you tighter as he pistoned harder.

"O-oh! I... you!" You moaned, speech cutting off as you couldn't talk. It was so fast, so hard, so good!

The two of you continued to moan and grunt, accompanied only by the sound of skin slapping. The erotic groans of the man you held such distaste for was sending you over the edge. You hated it so much that you loved it.

To the means of an end, you felt the coil snap as he groaned once more in your ear, the spasming of your walls soon causing him to cum. You felt your ravaged pussy shudder as ropes of hot cum seared your insides. As he slid out, it trailed out.

Lorenz looked down on you, smiling coyly at the sight. "Speechless and fucked silly, that's a perfect look for you."

[fiftyshadesgrl]

WRECKED PART 18

I know it's been a long time since I have updated this series but here is the newest chapter. I hope you all like it.

"Open your fuckin eyes y/n!" Negans harsh words were muffled, he sounded worried. My head felt full, to heavy and the throb behind my eyes made me want to scream. I tried but I couldn't move a muscle or say anything. I felt like I was floating maybe I really was dead. "Tell Sarah to get her fucking ass to the medical tent!"

"Ne....gan." that was as much as I could muster up. My eyes opened just slightly, enough to see negan and the blur of trees. I must have been in his arms and he was running. I was numb everywhere, except for that damn throb in my head.

Negan glanced at me for a second, "it's okay baby, we are almost there. You just hang in there." His voice so soft but why was there fear in it. It hurt to much to think right now and my vision began to tunnel again. I just wanted to sleep.

"Sle...eeep." I croaked out but before I fully succumbed to it I heard negans harsh voice. "Dont you fuckin dare go to sleep. You stay the fuck awake. You fuckin hear me! Damn it y/n, don't fuckin do this to me!"

I tried, I really did to keep my eyes open like he wanted but there was just no way to fight it.

Negans pov

The medical tent was in sight, my fuckin heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest. It wasn't from carrying y/n or running while doing so. It was fuckin fear. Something I haven't felt in a really fuckin long time. Not since my first wife. I don't handle this emotion well and I refuse to let this be the end for me and y/n.

Simon jumped out from the woods beside me just as the dirt road turned gravel. He kept pace with me every step of the way. "If Sarah isn't in that fuckin tent then she will have a date with Lucille later."

Simon was breathing heavy but never faltering. "I radioed when we found her. She should be there." He glanced over at y/n and then back ahead, "is she gonna be okay?"

"I'm not a fuckin doctor!" The tent was a fee seconds away. Simon jumped ahead of me and held it open so I could get y/n in quickly. Sarah stood there, worry etching her face. When I laid y/n on the table worry was replaced by horror.

Sarah started an IV, then began examining the wound. "Sir, i...I don't know...this is bad."

"Do what you fuckin have to to save her. That means shut your fuckin mouth and do your job!" The woman flinched at my words, good she should be.

"Sir, she's lost alot of blood. She will more than likely need a transfusion and her heart may give out before we can type her and find someone with the type she needs. If she has internal bleeding I'm not qualified enough nor do I have the tools here to stop it. The baby is also a concern..."

"Shut the fuck up!" I yelled in her face, she jumped back but only for a second. She refocused back on my wife, "You will save her. No matter what you have to do, my wife will not fuckin die. If she does, so will you. Do you fuckin understand that!?"

She nodded quickly, "yes sir." I watched as she began to hook y/n up to a heart monitor and some other lines. There was a slow beeping sound on the heart monitor but Sarah kept working. I had to walk outside for a moment because seeing my strong wife like this brought up those old emotions and I couldnt take that right now.

I spotted Simon and quickly made my way to him. "I wanna know who these new fuckers are and I want to know now!"

"We didn't see anyone in the woods like y/n described. They are either really skilled at hiding or." I cut Simon off, "don't you dare say she was fucking hallucinating or some shit."

"No sir, I was going to say or they are new to the area. I wouldn't put it past Rick that he was involved somehow." Simon adjusted his belt and shifted on his feet as if saying Rick's name made him nervous.

I slung Lucille over my shoulder, "I think it's a good fuckin idea if we pay that fucker a visit." Simon smiled and nodded then walked towards the sanctuary. I stayed outside for a few more minutes then I heard Sarah's voice. "Sir." When I turned around she had blood all over her shirt, my stomach about dropped outta my ass at the sight. "Shes stable, but it's going to be touch and go for a while."

"You just saved your ass." I told her as I walked past her. Before I entered the tent I also added, "wanna keep it that way, keep her alive."

Y/N POV

My brain was so fuzzy feeling, my eyes tried to open but they felt as if they were glued together. I tried to swallow but my throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. "Y/n? Can you hear me?" A woman's voice sounded from beside me, I know that voice. My eyes opened slightly, she was sitting beside me holding a cup of water. My lips felt so dry and the water was so tempting. "You have to wake up a little more before you get the water." I willed myself to wake up because I really wanted that water. She nodded her approval and put the cup to my lips I drank and drank until there was none left.

"Better?" Sarah asked, I nodded which made the room spin. "You are one lucky duck. You had no internal bleeding and your baby is fine. It just went through your muscle, I stitched you up and you'll be down for a while but you'll recover."

I breathed a sigh of relief because my baby was okay. That's the one thing I was worried about, it didn't matter about me but my baby had to live. "Negan is going to be relieved to know you're awake and are gonna be okay." A shiver ran through me at the mention of his name. He's going to be so angry with me, he will never want me again.

"I gave you some pain meds so you'll be comfortable for a while. Negan is out now getting more. He should be back anytime." Sarah walked around me and checked the tube and monitors before she seemed to relax.

"How...long?" I whispered but thankfully she knew what I meant.

"You've been out for eight days. You lost a lot of blood and it was a good thing you were out so long. Your body has had time to start healing without you moving around." The sound of a truck approaching got both of our attention, "that's probably negan now."

I shook with fear, not knowing what negan would say or do when he found out I was awake. He burst through the door but said nothing, he just stood there staring. Sarah came in right behind him placing various bottles and another bag on the table.

"Sarah, is she good enough for you take a lunch break?" Negan asked in his low no bull shit voice.

Sarah waked over to the monitor above my bed, "she will be good until I get back." With that Sarah left not saying another word. Negan slowly sat down in the chair beside me, his leather jacket squeaking as he sat. He didn't say anything, he just sat there glaring at me.

"Negan." I began but he cut me off by holding up his hand.

"Save it. I don't want to hear any bullshit fucking excuses. You are in this position because you couldn't follow orders, one fucking order!" The muscle in his jaw ticked, "you are my fucking wife, carrying my fucking child. You almost died, so did my baby just because you have to show off your big fuckin lady balls!"

"I know." I closed my eyes, I felt my tears falling but I didn't care.

Negan jumped up and the chair clattering to the floor making me jump. "Oh no! Don't you fucking pull that shit on me. You don't get to be fuckin upset when this is all your fault."

"I know. But negan." I started again but he wasn't done talking.

"Every second you are in pain doesn't compare to the pain I fuckin felt when I thought I lost you." He stepped back beside my bed seemingly more calm, "now because of you I have double the fuckin work to do. I have to deal with Rick and his bullshit and I have to find whatever group you ran into. So don't expect me to be coming by and visiting."

"But-"

"No! I've got shit to deal with." With that he left me. Sarah came back a while later just when my pain meds started to wear off. I didn't care, like negan said I deserved this. I feel like I've lost everything, Sarah noticed my tears and came to sit beside me.

"He's been through alot honey. There was a few days there that I didn't know if I could save you. He will come around."

I shook my head, "no, no he won't. I think I just lost my husband for good

@missamberv @an-unhealthy-obsession @vicmc624 @tftumblin @justanotherwinchester @jesseswartzwelder @holylulusworld @fangirl199812 @emerloveskate

[kyugens]

I want to hear more about your thoughts on Tsunade's teaching style. How would you say it compares to Jiraiya's and Orochimaru’s? Thanks!

unprompted  –  always accepting!

Such a great question! I love that you took the time to send me this, and I'm happy to answer! The idea behind Tsunade not being a good mentor ( read not believing in the praise = success motto ) is connected directly with her more toxic personality traits and untreated trauma. I wrote about this once, how her inability to love and be loved affected her relationship with her apprentices – it pretty much applies here too. It's not that she can't love Shizune, Sakura, or even Ino but that she refuses to! She refuses to let her affection blind her because she knows it would be a disservice to them. They asked her to teach them ( with Shizune being the exception because she didn't have a choice on the matter, and neither did Tsunade, a whole thing for another time ), and that's what she's going to do.  They'll train chakra control until they pass out from exhaustion and are going to read her medical journals from dusk until dawn. They will fight and learn from each other's mistakes ( mainly Sakura and Ino. that's another thing she does: use their competitiveness to inspire their rivalry and breed animosity, because that's ultimately leading to their improvement ). It doesn't matter that your hands have been burnt from all the extremely difficult techniques, or that you're hallucinating and having nightmares from reading so much because Tsunade also wrote the worst years of her life in those pages with so many details and graphic depctions. And it doesn't matter that you broke your arm during yesterday's spar. Because life as a Kunoichi is anything but forgiving, and Tsunade, more than anyone, knows that. At any given moment, their loved ones' lives are at risk, and they could lose everything just as she did. Going easy on them, or trying to inspire love out of them for her techniques or even herself– from the way she sees it, will do nothing in favor of either Sakura or Ino. But knocking their butts to the ground and SHOWING them just how incapable they still are of protecting other people AND themselves – that should do the trick. And for Sakura? It did. But for Ino, probably not so much. And again, Shizune didn't have another option. All in all, Tsunade's default is extremely-tough love. She's probably broken and mended more bones in her apprentices' bodies than she did during the two wars she participated in. It's not what they want but what they need. Can it be qualified as abusive? Very likely. But it's not like she's keeping them hostage and forcing them to do anything. Ino left, and Shizune, at some point, also managed to put an end to it. And how it compares to Orochimaru and Jiraiya's teaching style, well... For starters, I don't think that either of them is as harsh on their students as Tsunade is on Sakura. Sasuke is naturally talented, and Naruto, regardless of how little he knows about the theory behind jutsus ( read he's not book smart ) still has access to a pretty large chakra reserve he inherited from the Uzumaki and to Kyuubi, so if he tries enough times he'll eventually get it right by sundown ( literally how he learned the rasengan! and it's a very fancy jutsu). Everything Sakura had going for her was her own determination. Tsunade is not as close to Sakura as Jiraiya is to Naruto, because she makes sure of that. But still, their relationship isn't the same as Orochimaru and Sasuke's – she doesn't have an ulterior motive to be teaching Sakura. Nevertheless, with Sakura specifically... I think she relates to her a lot, and should Sakura ever decide to stop their training, Tsunade would be very upset with it. But don't think she doesn't care for Sakura! She does! For Shizune and Ino as well! She will do anything for those girls – except let them know just loved and appreciated they are. It is... some kind of self-preservation instinct in some ways. What if other people learn just how much they mean to her and try to use it against her? Ah, there's so much to talk about it. lmao But this is enough for today. Thank you again! I loved writing this. <3

@super-kame-love

[ckret2]

Chocolate Pudding

Venom accidentally loses the symbiote’s newest spawn and turns NYC upside down trying to find it.

Meanwhile, a four-year-old girl prods a pile of chocolate pudding.

This fic was written for Day 1 of @symbruary, prompt: "symbisona/symbiOC". Due to the fact that I am not a four-year-old girl, this is an OC, not a sona. This fic is not yet proofed due to the fact that I wrote it on my phone in a five-hour haze of symbiote-loving hyperfocus.

You: "Hey, where does this fic fit into Venom's comic continuity?" Me: *makes a wiggly hand motion*

###

"That should hold Spider-Man for a little bit," Venom said to themselves as they swung away from the collapsing parking garage. "If it doesn't outright squash him like the bug he is! Ha! But no—fate has never been so kind as to smile upon us that way. This is but a short reprieve, during which we can—"

There was a sensation inside their brain like a sticker peeling off of its backing as symbiote and host's consciousnesses separated. Uh-oh. Eddie.

"Hm?" Eddie tilted his head, as though to better hear the voice in his head. "What's wrong, my love?"

Think I dropped a baby.

"What?!" Venom nearly crashed into a skyscraper. They cracked a window and then clung to it as Eddie's heart leaped into his throat. For them to drop a poor innocent baby, especially at these heights, because that accursed Spider-Man had been hounding them—When had they been holding a baby—?

Not human, the symbiote quickly clarified. One of mine. Ours.

"Oh!" The panic drained out of Eddie; and then immediately returned. "We had a baby?! Where? When?"

Don't know; wasn't paying attention. Near Times Square?

"We'll have to hurry. Any kind of miscreant could pick it up there!" Venom kicked off the building, swinging back in the direction they'd come from.

###

Faye leaned over as far as she could with the teacher's vice grip on her hand, stretching her chubby brown fingers toward what looked to her like a pile of iridescent chocolate pudding sitting in the street just next to the curb. She couldn't quite reach it with how tightly the teacher was holding her hand.

The pudding reached back toward her.

The teacher's attention was split between watching traffic for a safe point to herd her charges across the street and scanning the sky to make sure the super villain that had crashed the children's home van wasn't looping back with Spidey to terrorize the square again. She glanced down once to make sure Faye wasn't about to fall off the curb, looked back at traffic, belatedly registered that she'd seen the fidgeting four-year-old reaching toward some nasty gutter gunk, and looked down again. "Faye! Don't touch—"

But there was no gunk. Just Faye, standing straight up, looking around in a startled daze like someone had just dragged her out of a daydream by setting off a party popper in her face.

The teacher didn't have time to worry about it—Faye was probably just stunned from the recent super fight—and the light had just changed. The teacher hustled her charges across the street.

Faye saw a woman passing the other way with bright neon green cornrows. She reached up and patted her own cloud of bouncy black hair, then twisted around in her teacher's grip to look back over her shoulder at the woman with the colorful hair, seeing how the braids zigzagged like lightning down the back of her head.

Little patches of bright green bloomed in Faye's hair, thread-thin tendrils mixing in with her natural hair. They wrapped around her hair like ivy weaving through a trellis, then wove the strands together, starting from her hairline and moving back. By the time they reached the other side of the street, five wide black-and-green braids inexpertly meandered back and forth over her head and dangled down to her shoulders.

It took the teacher two blocks to notice.

###

"We've turned the whole city upside-down," Venom lamented, sitting morosely atop an office building with their chin in a hand. "A whole week, and no sign of our youngest progeny! Where could it be? Hiding in the sewers, cold and alone with only rats and strays to meet its needs for sustenance and symbiosis?"

The dinosaur-people would know if so, the symbiote pointed out. They would say. Yes?

"That's true," Eddie said, relaxing slightly. "They know your scent, they'd know your child's too. Still, we should let them know to be on the lookout for one and to let us know if they find it." He tried to remember the nearest sewer entrance that wouldn't require them to pry up a manhole cover in the middle of a city street, and shot out a tendril to a taller building to swing them in that direction. "I just hope someone far fouler hasn't seized our innocent offspring," he said. "A criminal, a corporation, or, worse—an agent of the government."

###

The children's home's top social worker—certified agent of the government—watched through a partially cracked window as the four-to-six-year-olds played outside. She held her phone to her ear with her shoulder, listening to the hold music.

Faye tripped while running around between the faded playground equipment. The social worker saw her push herself up, rub her cheek vigorously, and inspect her scratched up bloody knee. Faye scrubbed the dirt off the scratch, and when she pulled her hand away the scratch was gone.

The social worker let out a low whistle.

The hold music stopped and the social worker sat up straighter. "Hi! Yes, this is... oh, hi, I think I spoke to you a couple of days ago." She laughed politely. "Yes, this is about the—Yes. Faye Fletcher. I was wondering about the uh, the procedures to enroll a child at Xavier's Institute if the child doesn't have legal guardians? I understand sometimes legal parents give up guardianship of their children to your institute, I don't know if the procedure is different if she's already a ward of the state—" The social worker fell silent a moment. "Four years old." She listened, then nodded. "Uh-huh. I see. See, our concern is—we don't have anyone on staff trained to help with, uh, gifted children, and since our grant doesn't allow us to hand gifted children to potential foster homes or adoptive parents unless they've passed a certification course—uh-huh. Oh, no no, I think it's great to make sure the parents are prepared, but it's—yes. It's going to make it harder to place her."

She listened a moment, watching the children outside play—a couple of the kids were pretending to be dogs, running around on all four and chasing after sticks other kids threw. The teacher on duty rushed over to stop them from putting the sticks in their mouths. Faye chucked a couple of sticks, but by this point there were more stick-throwers than pretend dogs to chase them, and hers were ignored.

"Oh, uh..." She checked her legal pad. "Nothing dangerous, so far. Shapeshifting. She keeps dying her hair, braiding and unbraiding it, and changing her clothes. I—yeah, the clothes shape-shift. They look like real clothing until they start shifting. And I just saw her patch up a wound, so self-healing. Mhm—no, while I was on the line with you, just in the last couple of minutes. I'm watching the kids play outside. Did you see the video attachment on my email? Of her braiding and unbraiding her hair?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, kind of like Medusa. That's what I was thinking."

She listened to another question. "No, the children aren't afraid of her—I think they're jealous of how she can 'play dress-up,' they call it. They—Oh! I should mention, she picked up an imaginary friend around the same time her powers developed. She calls it Chocolate Pudding. Some of the other kids say they've seen Chocolate Pudding, they think it's a ghost. That scared them."

The menagerie outside was expanding beyond dogs. One girl had started running around flapping her arms, cawing like an eagle; the teacher on duty had her hands full trying to keep the girl from climbing on the play equipment and jumping off. One boy yelled "I'm a dinosaur!" and started stomping across the playground with exaggeratedly large steps; a couple more joined in.

The social worker shrugged. "I don't—Chocolate Pudding could be anything, as far as we can tell. None of the staff has seen any such beast. We don't know if it's some sort of... of shared psychic hallucination? Or a shape-shifting trick she hasn't shown us yet, or just the kids being imaginative, or..." She trailed off. "Mhm. We don't know what to make of it."

Another kid yelled "I'm a dragon!" and charged at the first dinosaur, hissing loudly. Another cried, "We're a unicorn!"

"If she's not a fit for the Institute yet, then are you connected with any children's homes in the NYC area qualified to deal with gifted children? We don't want to foist her off on another home, but if she develops something that we don't have the support system to—" The social worker dropped her phone.

Faye was covered head to toe in a bubblegum pink second skin with a long mane of curly rainbow hair stretching down her back. Her eyes had been replaced by some cross between oversized anime eyes, multifaceted insect eyes, and sparkly rainbow-refracting diamonds. From the center of her forehead protruded a six-inch wicked-looking pearlescent horn.

They playground anarchy screeched to a halt as every child stared at her.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Faye grinned at them with wicked-looking pearlescent teeth.

Without breaking her gaze from the window, the social worker groped on the floor for her phone. "I've, uh, got something else you'll want to know."

The other children started screaming.

###

Peter Parker was awoken in the dead of night by a set of glowing white eyes. "What in the—!"

"Don't scream. We're not here to f—" Venom blocked Peter's foot. "We said we're not here to fight!"

"You're in my apartment!"

"You say that like we haven't been here before!"

"Yeah—usually to fight!"

They considered that, and shrugged. "Not this time. We're here—against our better judgment—to begrudgingly ask you to help us protect an innocent."

"At—" Peter looked for his clock, realized he'd knocked it off his bedside table in his flailing, and finished, "at whatever-it-is in the morning?!"

Venom shrugged again. "We couldn't sleep."

"You couldn't sleep, oy..." Peter rubbed his face. "Okay. Okay, just—is this going to require me to get out of bed?"

"No. Just to be vigilant."

"Yeah, yeah, all right. Vigilant's my middle name. Ol' Spider-Vigilant-Man." He rubbed his eyes. "What is it?"

Venom's face peeled back, exposing Eddie's shadowed face. "We lost a child."

"Oh." Peter spent a couple of seconds trying to muster up as much basic human empathy as he could after being dragged out of an extremely peaceful sleep. "I'm, uh... I'm so sorry. Was it—sorry, I'm trying to figure out how this works—was it a miscarriage, or...?"

"No! I mean we lost it. We dropped it somewhere around Times Square a month ago." With great indignation, he added, "While defending ourselves from you."

"Defending, you're the one who—" He flopped back and rubbed his eyes again. "Ugh. Okay. So are we—are we talking about another Carnage here? Please say no."

"That depends on the human with whom it's bonded. Assuming it found a human at all."

"Well—wow—in Times Square? It could've landed in a tourist group and be in China by now."

"That's why we need your help!" Eddie said, jabbing a finger uncomfortably close to Peter's chest. "You move in circles we don't. The Fantastic Four, the Avengers—we can search for our child in New York's underbelly, but your web reaches much higher. We need you to be on the lookout for it. And if you find it, find us. We are qualified to deal with it—whether it can still be raised as a hero, or is already corrupt and needs to be put down."

"Rrright." Peter pushed Eddie's hand away. The symbiote stretching over Eddie's knuckles briefly clung to the ridges of Peter's fingerprints. Yuck. "You sure you don't just want me to—y'know—turn a flamethrower on it and let you know when the problem's solved?"

"No!" And Eddie was gone, hidden again behind a mass of snarling fangs. "We don't know yet that it's another Carnage! We will judge it. If there's any innocence left in it, we want to—to try to save it."

At another time, Peter might have argued against the wisdom of "saving" a parasite for any reason—but it was half past can't-see-his-clock a.m. and he was tired. "Okay," he said. "All right, you got it. If I find a bundle of bouncing baby bile, I'll—uh—track you down, I guess—"

"Leave us a message," Venom insisted. "At the bell tower. Where you were divorced and we were wed. We'll check there nightly."

Divorced. Peter let that word echo nightmarishly in his head a few times. "Got it. Bell tower."

"We'll be waiting." With that, Venom climbed off Peter's bed and vanished into the night.

They'd been gone for half a minute before Peter asked, "Did you break in through my window?"

###

The workers at the children's home just didn't know what to do with Faye.

They'd made what adjustments they could. They'd switched out the alarm clock for a radio alarm in her room when its shrill buzzing made her scream in pain and caused strange neon colors to ripple across her skin, and later they hurried her outside under a jacket when an older kid pulled a fire alarm to the same effect. The door buzzer from the entrance that prospective parents used—which played through speakers along the whole length of the main hall and was audible from nearly the whole building—had the same effect, but they didn't have the budget to replace it with a different bell. They'd had to turn off the buzzer completely and tape a note to the door telling visitors that the buzzer was broken and asking them to knock, with a number underneath to text if nobody heard the knock. They were doing the best they could to help Faye.

But they didn't know how to handle biting. Bad enough when the normal kids did it—normal kids didn't have inch long daggers in their mouths.

"Faye, sweetie," her teacher said gently, "you hurt Martin very badly. You know that, don't you?"

Arms crossed tightly, staring at her lap, kicking her feet, Fay nodded sullenly. She'd hidden her face behind a layer of tie-dye rainbow skin without a mouth, which she'd taken to doing (colors subject to change) when she didn't want to talk.

"I'm not mad," said the teacher, who was more terrified than anything, "but I need to to understand why."

"We're hungry." Her voice was muffled behind the mask.

That was the worst possible answer. "Faye, you can't—you can't eat your friends."

"Yes we can."

"You shouldn't," the teacher said quickly. "I saw you pushing your lunch around instead of eating it today. Wouldn't you be less hungry if you ate your lunch? Then you won't want to hurt your friends?"

"It was mac and cheese! We don't want mac and cheese!" She kicked her feet more agitatedly.

In danger of getting kicked in the knees, the teacher scooted slightly back. "What do you want for lunch?"

Faye slammed her hands down on the edge of her seat and her mouth peeled open like a zipper, revealing three rows of fangs, and roared, "Chocolate Pudding wants chocolate!"

The teacher stared at her, mouth open. Already knowing this was a fight she was going to lose, she said, "Faye, honey, a growing girl can't live on dessert—"

She started wailing.

###

"Are you good with kids, Peter?" J. Jonah Jameson asked.

"Oh, yeah, kids think I'm pretty cool," said Peter, thinking of all the little Spider-Mans he'd seen wandering around last Halloween.

"Great. Got a human interest story we need a couple of pictures for," Jameson said. He passed over a piece of paper with an address and several names. "Underfunded orphanage stuck with a mutant girl."

"'Stuck with'? Hey, now—"

"Not like that. Their funding isn't good enough to let them add a specialist to their staff, and the only two places in the state that are qualified to take mutant kids are overcrowded. I'm hoping if we whip up some public furor over this poor kid we can get 'em some donations—maybe shame legislature into increasing funding all around." He pointed at Peter. "So I want you to make Miss Fletcher look cute as hell, got it?"

"Yessir." Relieved Jameson wasn't asking him to vilify an orphaned child, Peter looked over the address.

"And see if you can get her to uh... 'play dress-up' for the camera." Jameson waved a hand vaguely. "They said it's some sort of shapeshifting? We won't use 'em if they're weird enough to rile up the anti-mutant crowd, but if it's cute maybe it'll tug a few heartstrings and film's cheap. Just get some normal shots as well."

"Will do!" Peter headed out the door, plotting his subway route to the children's home.

An hour later, Peter was standing alone in the children's home playground, wondering if he should leave a tip with the FBI for the Anti-Symbiote Task Force... or leave a note for Eddie Brock.

Which one did he trust to treat a preschooler better?

###

The teachers were practically crawling up the walls.

Faye was literally crawling up the walls.

And camouflaging with the wallpaper.

And tipping over bunk beds.

And kicking through wood doors.

And tearing up furniture with her unicorn horn.

Most incidents were the result of normal four-year-old rambunctious play, or the expected tantrums that came from being tired, hungry, or overwhelmed. But normal play and tantrums attached to super strength and a fluctuating array of sharp spikes were disasters waiting to happen. It was a miracle they hadn't had any more incidents as bad as Martin's hospital stay.

Half of Faye's diet was chocolate bars now. They didn't know if that was making things better or worse.

The last thing the head social worker needed was to open the door to her office and be greeted by the sight of Venom—whose muscles looked even bigger in person—sitting in one of the chairs usually reserved for prospective parents, one foot hooked over the other knee, grinning like the world's happiest shark. "Hello," he said.

The head social worker gaped. Venom stared expectantly at her. She whispered, "Hi."

"My other and I are looking to adopt," Venom said cheerfully. "Or, more precisely, to reclaim custody. We have reason to believe one of our children was mistakenly put up for adoption. A terrible error—we've been searching frantically for our darling child for weeks!"

The social worker mentally ran over the various manifestations of Faye's "mutation," working back to the day she's come home with green hair—and her teacher had shakily recounted the close encounter between their van and a super fight. "Oh."

Venom's smile twitched wider. "I see you know who it is! Is it our family resemblance?" His teeth gleamed hideously white as he gestured toward her seat behind her desk, as though commanding her to be seated so they could begin negotiations.

She didn't budge. "Please," she said, "don't hurt anyone here. All we have here are children, and they've already been through so much—"

"Madam, we would never!" Venom placed a hand on his chest, over the head of his white spider symbol. "We are a protector of the innocent! And who could be more innocent than poor, sweet children longing for a family, and the kind-hearted staff that care for them?" He paused. "But we're not leaving without our child." He gestured again toward her chair.

This time, she thought maybe she should take it.

As she sat, Venom asked, "What have you been calling our child?"

"Her name is Faye Fletcher."

For a moment, this answer seemed to puzzle Venom; but then he said, as though talking to himself, "Ah, yes; quite right. She must mean..." He leaned forward slightly, fixing the social worker with what she could tell even with Venom's blank white eyes must have been a piercing stare. "And what has Faye been calling her other?"

###

It was the fastest and most wildly illegal adoption in the history of the NYC Administration for Children's Services. The terrified social worker informed Venom of the thirty hour parenting class most parents were required to take before adopting a child, as well as the five hour supplement for parents taking in mutants—although at this point she no longer had any idea whether that information would be at all helpful for Faye—and Venom reassured her so sincerely that he would attend the first class he could find that she actually believed him.

Even if he didn't go, she was sure he'd have a better idea of how to care for Faye than any of them did. And that instinct was only reinforced when he suddenly lifted his head and turned toward the door as though he'd picked up a familiar scent a full fifteen seconds before Faye came barreling into the office.

With reflexes so fast he almost looked like a blur, he dropped to one knee and spread his arms just in time to catch Faye in a great bear hug, the both of them wearing identical fangy grins. "We knew you'd still be an innocent," he said, holding her out by the shoulders to take a good look at her, taking her in from horn tip down to pink feet. "Unicorns are always innocent. Isn't that what you are, a sweet little unicorn?"

Faye giggled, sounding like a girl her age should for the first time in days.

When they left, Venom carrying Faye Fletcher Brock (and Chocolate Pudding) in his arms, he'd grown a gleaming white unicorn horn to match hers.

###

Fic also available on AO3, link in my description. If you enjoyed the fic, I’d appreciate a reblog or comment!

[scary-lasagna]

Do you have any tips for me? I have a creepypasta oc named forgotten asylum, who I don't really have anything for, other than the facts that he has half of his face burnt and he's half blind and wears a straitjacket, he's 16, his name is William Grey, and he has a sledge hammer and a mask. I kinda need help with him, and figured you would be the person to ask, since my sister hates creepypasta.

Ooo I see. He sounds interesting! I like how you made him half-blind to match his facial scarring!

Straight Jackets are just overly qualified gloves, so make sure he has a way to cut them open to use his hands.

Make sure there’s a valid reason why he’s (supposedly) in an asylum. Asylums are like one step up form a mental health facility because the patient is either too difficult to take care of through therapy and needs extensive measures, or they’re a danger to himself/others in William’s case.

For the few asylum things I have read in the past, try to avoid the maniacal laughter. People don’t go insane by laughing and thinking everything is funny, it’s usually a process of isolation, hallucinations, dissociating, and so on.

If he is insane, make him unpredictable. He can be calm as a dove in one moment and lunging at someone’s throat the next second because a strand of the person’s hair was out of place.

However, if he’s not insane there’s a whole different ballgame to get into depending on what disorders he has, and how he will be treated.

Some food for thought:

Why is he in an asylum? Who put him there? Did he commit any crimes? If so, what criminal offense does he have, and does he need security to keep him under control/escort him to locations like the bathroom. Does the staff treat him nicely? If not, does he validate his (possible) violence with the abuse? Where did he find the sledgehammer? Is there an outside force that is helping him? What does the mask contribute to the story?

[far-off-flower-fields]

I feel like the medical system in the UK is set up specifically to create barriers to getting help or getting better. Like yeah you don't pay for most stuff, but it's also incredibly omplicated and painful to navigate.

You need a referral for literally everything, which means trying to get the doctor to listen and also trying to convince them to actually do something because they are often lazy and apathetic. You will be told repeatedly "there's nothing we can do" until/unless you get lucky.

An online workbook thing is in place, doctors say you must complete this first if you're struggling with your mentally health, there's 2 and they're both useless. If you complete them you'll often be told "if that didn't help there's no point trying anything else" because they don't want to put referrals through.

I'm sure part of the avoidance if referrals is because the nhs is underfunded (government and some doctors are doing this intentionally to try to privatise the system) and waiting times are like 6-8months minimum.

Doctors are not qualified to diagnose a lot of things, and nor are counsellors, you need referred to a different medical professional, or a psychiatrist to get anything actually looked at, diagnosed, or treated. They have no clue how a lot of that works and they also will tell you they don't want to get you a diagnosis rather than telling you that they are not allowed or qualified to do so.

If you get your referral you often need a second referral to a specialist, meaning going back onto the waiting list.

The person you speak to before the specialist will try to diagnose you with something that they can diagnose you with, sometimes misdiagnosis happens that way, or you just don't get the help you need if there's no proper treatment for your initial diagnosis but there is for other ones that are missed if you can't advocate for yourself. You will again be told "there's nothing we can do" unless you can make them make further referrals to specialists.

There is a shed load of medical sexism and fatphobia going on. If you're fat everything will just be blamed on that. If you're AFAB they're less likely to try medications for you and you will have a very difficult time bekng heard or diagnosed.

They write actual lies and misinformation in your medical record because most people don't know they can request a copy.

If you are mentally ill you will be told that all of your physical health problems are your mental health... They will not offer help or advice beyond "take ibuprofen/paracetamol/aspirin.

Even if something is a reoccurring medical issye they will default to saying it's "just viral" and if you go back with it repeatedly you'll be ignored.

It is difficult to even speak to a doctor in the first place, even on the phone. The receptionist will ask what's wrong, and if they don't think it's important they'll say you don't gey an appointment ir they'll just have you talk to the nurse practitioner. The receptionist does not have medical training and shouldn't be making that decision. The power does go to their head.

If you see the nurse practitioner they are not actually qualified to do most things and will either do nothing, or tell you to speak to a doctor.

If they don't like a medication your on they'll make you change to another one even if the original one was better for you and had no side effects, if you ask to change back to it because you're feeling worse on the new one they'll refuse. They're just covering themselves instead of providing required care.

Doctors do not adhere to advice on medication, if you start hallucinating because of a medication and tell a doctor they will do nothing at all, this is not what they're meant to do.

Often booking in advance is not allowed even if not doing so is bad for your mental health. Somehow they claim to always be fully booked but don't take bookings, and are turning down a lot if appointments. This is the case even in smaller towns.

Many doctors/counsellors/psychiatrists/specialists work a couple of days a week and seem to take a thousand holidays.

Getting time off is very difficult because most doctors think people are just lazy and not sick or in pain.

Some doctors want you to tell them what you want, with others if you try this it bruises their ego and they'll shut you down.

There is a lot of being sent back and forward between the same people because having so many steps and referrals means no one actually knows what's going on and who you have and haven't spoken to and who you need to speak to.

So many lost appointments or appointments cancelled way in advance but you just never find out.

They just don't check things that they should check.

You often actually don't have a main doctor at all (just whoever is available) so no one gets to know you, your issues, how they affect you, what you are normally like as a base line, what your life looks like, what you've tried, whether something is getting better or worse. This makes them functionally unequipped to properly help you. It also makes anxiety worse because you don't know who you'll get or if you've met them before and if you don't get along with a specific doctor you can still wind up seeing them, it's horrible.

Lost records.

In some areas there is exactly one specialist and referrals are often not made outside of your general area so if there's a problem you're stuck.

It appears no one receives any sensitivity training...

If you call a diagnosis into question they seem offended on behalf of the other doctor (even if they are overseas and it was a decade ago) because you're a peon, you know nothing, how dare you question our all encompassing authority.

They do not inform you to the best of their ability. They don't tell you the steps to get something done.

If you're referred for one thing that is the ONLY thing you'll be evaluated for (even if you mention several possibilities). They will not perform a more general evaluation to see if that's all they should look for. They will not rule other things in or out on the way to one thing.

I could go on and on. This has been my experience with the NHS. As I said it's literally all on purpose because they want to privatise the system so everyone has to pay for visits so they are making the system function so poorly that they're hoping people will be forced to go private to actually get adequate care. When actually what is happening is that people are left no option but to feel so mistrustful and anxious that they don't even ask fir help when they need it. I severely twisted (possibly a mild fracture who knows) my ankle and just did not go for help because I literally knew I couldn't get anyone to see me, the only option was a&e and with covid going on I didn't want to chance it. I can't get help for my joint pain because thet don't care and it took 5 years to get an ADHD diagnosis, and I have mentioned Autism as a possibility repeatedly and am still pushing for them to investigate that.

They don't have my full medical record because part of it got lost when I was young, but they don't ask me questions or che k anything with me.

These are all experiences had by either me or someone I know and I know 5 people across 2 doctors offices. I live in Scotland and can say most doctors in the area I'm in operate a similar system and I've read about other people having similar experiences. Attitudes seem to be very "the easist answer is the one you get" and "if an issue isn't easily solved we won't help you".

There are a few good doctors but they are few and far between and it's pure luck whether you get to speak to them, or anyone at all.

What needs to happen is the system needs mending, and funding.

Sorry this is long, I'm just frustrated by how complicated and difficult it all is, and angry that I'm just left in pain all the time and no one looks into it.

[onceandalwaysenglishmajor]

Please Don't Leave Me

[fuleao]

I did watch it and I threw a whole bunch of thoughts in a word doc, but organizing a writing piece is really hard for me + I’m in the middle of a crisis where I don’t trust my opinions on media. So I am just tossing up some abbreviated notes. (spoilers, my feelings were mostly lukewarm)

- Very disappointing in the supernatural department. The ghosts were great. We started off strong with Vide Noir (the drug) confirmed to be an ancient mysterious substance that shows you arcane knowledge. Then our protagonist is given some, has a sequence that I hesitant to qualify as “trippy,” and doesn’t seem to learn or see anything he doesn’t already know. Given the huge list of supernatural concepts referenced in the album and previous supplemental materials, this is hardly anything.

- There was also the earth hands/brain worms and I hope those were real. They were cool, but if they were just Buck hallucinating (whether from VN or because that just happens to him sometimes), then I am hugely disappointed.

- The characters were better than I expected! Like most viewers, Johnnie and Frankie were highlights for me. I even liked Z’Oiseau, and I say that as someone who finds a lot of villains annoying. Before we see him, he felt real flat, just another Bad Guy who will kill you for the smallest infraction. On-screen, he seemed like a mostly calm dude who was very interested in knowledge and discussions, and had lost his inhibitions about hurting people in seeking what he wanted. Lee was also less flat than I expected. Nothing groundbreaking, but she was ambitious and manipulative, rather than just a MacGuffin Love Interest. The weakest character was Buck, unfortunately; he was sweet, but he had nothing going on besides Being In Love With Lee. At least he was a boring dweeb trying his best, rather than a boring Cool Guy.

- I did think the Emerald Star scene was good, I felt for the characters. And I do admit, the song does say they’re by a lake. But just try and tell me it wouldn’t have been cooler if they were out in the middle of a nebula. What a place to get rejected.

- Like, it was funny how Moonbeam came up with the emerald star thing. But it would be really sad if all of these cool phrases we hear were hoaxes too. Products of the Universe overall is more satisfying than this movie, imho, and it would suck if mind pigment and the balancer’s eye and all of those were just hoaxes too. The legend of La Belle Fleur Sauvage is brought up, but only in the context of being a legend. Yes, I absolutely think it’s real, but that’s me making that decision.

- I am always going to prefer the version of Dead Man’s Hand where Buck digs a whole entire grave, and then the dead body he found is like “oh thank you kindly, but I’d rather not.” Still! Love this mess of a kid. He pulled a “that’s rough, buddy” on Buck. ." He's out here like "you haven't heard of my gang? =(" and "don't you fuckin dare waste your life in front of me, I don't even have a life." He's adorable. I hope he's having fun in the desert.

- I was surprised that I DID know one actor in this movie. Frankie’s actress is the love interest from Snow Dogs, a hokey kids movie from 2003 that I loved back in the day. This is nothing but I got a big kick out of it.

- Anyway love Frankie, we got lots of lore on here and I still have many questions. Love Like Ghosts hits different now. Also I staunchly continue to believe Meet Me in the Woods is about the Horrors. It is not just a Vide Noir trip.

-Overall, it was kind of fun to watch, it was like a lil scavenger hunt. Some fun characters, story was okay. Not nearly as much lore or weirdness as I would have hoped.

- Lots of potential for Buck to either die or be depressed to the point of metaphorical death, fall in love with Louisa, and then find out she’s actually a witch who’s bound him to commit crimes for her, no? But she needs to literally be a witch. Please I’m begging.

my dash is exploding with excitement over tma 2 and i am alone stewing in my mixed feelings because i found out my favorite band is actually going to release that full-length movie they haven’t spoken of in a long time

[cluster-a-pds]

Hey there, I was being diagnosed with STPD last week, but because my delusions were too fixed and I experience hallucinations, I now don't fit the criteria despite scoring very high in it. They no longer have any idea what is wrong and I was wondering if you had any idea if STPD could experience these symptoms or not? (The delusions and hallucinations are long term and only dissipate with Olanzapine)

Hey, thanks for the question!

(Usual disclaimer that we are not professionals therefore cannot give advice on your exact diagnosis/say with any amount of certainty what you may have, we know nothing about your individual case or the entirety of your symptoms, etc.) 

Long term delusions and hallucinations are not a feature of StPD.In the differential diagnosis section of the criteria (from the DSM) it states:  “Schizotypal personality disorder can be distinguished from delusional disorder, schizophrenia, and a bipolar or depressive disorder with psychotic features because these disorders are all characterized by a period of persistent psychotic symptoms (e.g., delusions and hallucinations).”,, which is essentially the same thing I’ve read in every other writing and book as well that goes in depth about distinguishing StPD from other things and when to diagnose it and etc. 

Basically, one of the main ways that StPD is distinguished from other similar disorders like Schizophrenia is that most of the psychotic seeming symptoms in StPD are of a lesser intensity (like for example an illusion vs. a full hallucination), or may be full hallucinations/delusions but occurring with significantly less frequency and are of much shorter duration. Those with StPD can on occasion experience brief psychotic episodes under stress (like lasting an hour - a day maybe)  but would not be having full long lasting hallucinations or delusions on a regular basis. The cognitive and social impairments in StPD can be as severe as that seen in schizophrenia and etc., but the psychotic symptoms would not be to that degree. 

So then I guess, if you’re having that level of psychotic symptoms, the people who are treating you would possibly instead be considering disorders that can feature persistent psychotic symptoms (like schizophrenia, schizoaffective, delusional disorder, etc. etc. what it is would depend on your other symptoms (like for example if you also have mood disorder symptoms or not, depression, the nature of how your symptoms interact with the others, etc etc.))

Remember that you CAN technically meet enough criteria for a disorder but still have that NOT fit you diagnosis wise, because another disorder already allots for those symptoms or would be more appropriate given the picture of your symptoms as a whole.

Meeting the basic outlined diagnostic criteria is only one part of diagnosis and there is usually more to consider than that (which is why they have stuff like the differential diagnosis sections of criteria and handbooks about diagnosis and information on interaction between symptoms and how to tell them apart and etc,, to like help compare similar things/see which one describes all the symptoms as a whole the best, not just every one where the criteria are met), which can be confusing but I guess is maybe helpful to know, like it’s not cause for concern or anything if you meet the StPD criteria but may not have it because those symptoms are better explained by something else, that’s vaguely common and not like a bad or weird thing or anything. 

Anyway!! To answer your question of if StPD can experience those symptoms or not: No, that level and frequency of psychotic symptoms is not something that occurs in StPD, so it could be possible that your symptoms are a result of some other similar disorder instead.

Hopefully the people you are getting your diagnosis from have already considered this or something and know enough about it/have experience with it, but if not I think maybe (depending on your situation, resources available to you) they could refer you to someone else (like idk sometimes if you’re talking to a school counselor or something they may try to have you see someone more qualified in whatever your specific issue is or something to be able to distinguish your diagnosis for you better than they could), but if you have concerns or something I’m sure you could just bring it up to them. I think it’s pretty typical for patients to be able to openly ask about/discuss their diagnosis or for things like that to be clarified. 

Sorry that you’re having trouble, but hopefully things will get sorted out for you! Sometimes it can take a while to get things like that figured out, like I’ve spoken to people who have had their diagnosis change multiple times over the years and etc. etc.  but eventually they usually find something that is right for their situation. Which I guess is why some of the time in treatment it seems ‘Finding Ways To Help With The Most Distressing Symptoms’ takes precedence over ‘Finding Exact Precise Diagnosis’, since the diagnosis may change with time/more information/etc. but the symptoms themselves are pretty constant (of course unless like treatment gets rid of them but you know what I mean lol). Having a clear label can be helpful in figuring what treatments could work the best for you (which can take a while to sort it all out in some cases, especially if there’s a lot going on), but having that exact diagnosis isn’t everything and there are plenty of ways to help and manage symptoms and still work on feeling better even if some sort of ultimate diagnosis hasn’t yet been reached or things are a bit confusing at the time. 

Anyway though, I wish you luck finding a diagnosis that fits and getting help with any distressing symptoms you have! Also feel free to ask anything else if I misinterpreted what you were asking or if you need anything clarified or etc. Have a great day, anon! 

[cluster-a-pds]

What sort of things qualify as strange/unusual beliefs for STPD? And also what are some examples of disordered thinking/speech? I have no idea if what I experience is normal as I have no frame of reference for it..

Hey, thanks for the question!

I have a post where I break down and explain every StPD diagnostic criteria, which is here (link), and I think there are some examples and explanations listed there. But I’ll also list a few things here in my reply for convenience/covering it a bit more - 

~

Strange/unusual beliefs could be stuff like:

Someone thinking they have magical powers or influence over events

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Someone thinking that there is an organization of people who watch them in their house or that they are living in a tv show

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A belief of being able to communicate with ghosts or control supernatural phenomena 

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Someone thinking they are able to read minds or predict the future

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A strong belief in odd conspiracy theories (not ones with like plausible actual evidence like ‘the sugar industry used to pay scientists to change results of studies to say sugar was better for you than it actually was’ but more outlandish things like: ‘there is a global conspiracy  of corporations planning to steal the mind content of humans through their dreams and I hate sleeping because I don't want The Organization to have access to my brain’ , etc. things that have little actual basis or are highly unlikely to be true )

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Having many unusual superstitions (’oh I try not to make plans on a Tuesday because that’s a Bad day and something bad will always happen if I do anything out of the ordinary on a Tuesday’ etc.) 

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also note: the criteria says ‘which influence behavior and are inconsistent with subcultural norms’, meaning it should be beyond a ‘regular’ degree. Like many people will admit: “Well, yeah, idk I guess ghosts could be something that exist, it’s not impossible you know, I think I saw one once”, especially since minor belief in ghosts is fairly common in some pop culture and etc., but that wouldn’t constitute as an odd belief that’s strong enough to be influential on a person. Whereas if someone were to go off speaking about the many times they’ve spoken to Ghosts personally and felt the presence of ghosts and have many stories about times that their strong belief in ghosts has affected them personally and influenced their behavior or interactions with others or etc., then that would be beyond a ‘regular’ degree and they would likely qualify for having ‘odd beliefs’. It’s not just simply ‘believes in ghosts and aliens and likes occult things’ , an important part of it is also the personal connection, the feeling of being able to influence events or having these beliefs be strongly important to the person and shape their actions and behavior, etc.    Also things that are cultural norms wouldn’t count (such as someone in a religious family believing in the “supernatural” powers of their common god), unless to a ridiculously uncommon degree or in a strange way (like someone being mildly afraid to take showers because they’re fixated on the idea that holy angels are always watching them and jesus will hurt their family if they ever show their nude body to the angels , even during bathing, etc.) 

-

Basically just strange or odd beliefs that differ from cultural norms and impact the person’s life and actions to some degree. 

(Also: it is noted that these beliefs should be less than delusional in intensity, so even if someone believes them enough to have it influence their behavior and the way they interact with the world and etc. they would still be somewhat aware that they may be unlikely or untrue, mostly at all times. Like someone may mostly feel that the reason they got a phone call was because they have magic powers and wished for a phone call just 5 minutes earlier, but they would still be able to admit that it could likely just be a coincidence, and would probably still doubt that they LITERALLY have complete magical control over things, even if  they do consistently feel that way and hold the idea as important to them. This is because part of what distinguishes StPD from things like schizophrenia is that the psychotic symptoms are less pronounced/below the threshold, and you wouldn’t have long lasting full delusions or hallucinations or etc in StPD, this is explained in better detail/more at length-ish in the ‘ideas of reference’ section of the bigger writing I linked to, but I thought I would mention it briefly here since it is in the criteria ) 

~

And then odd thinking and speech could be stuff like:

Being overly vague or lacking detail in your speech (like even when talking about a topic where you would expect detail (such as one’s personal thoughts on a topic, or when telling a story) like just  ‘So what do you like to do?’ “stuff.” ‘Like what?’ “things.” ‘What in particular?’ “read”  ‘What type of books do you enjoy?’ “ idk, books” ‘Do you have a favorite genre?’ “yeah.” ‘Well what is it?’ “mystery” ‘Why is it your favorite? What do you like about it?’ “idk”, etc. (Also this wouldn’t just be only in the case where someone wants a conversation to end and they’re being short on purpose, it would have to be an actual common thing the person is not doing intentionally just to end a discussion or etc.) 

-

Being overly detailed and giving too much information, like if someone just asks a person about where they got their shoes but then they go on a whole tangent about what type of shoes they like and how they feel about the shoe industry and what it would look like if they designed their own shoes and how they have foot inserts for their feet problems and etc etc.

-

Overly abstract or metaphorical speech that doesn’t help convey a meaning. So like someone using occasional common metaphors just to help explain things would be typical, but if someone asked “How did your meeting go?” and a person replied “As all meetings, the meeting of the elements, the intermingling, as the frost winded nights, and as the sun livened bright hours, there are times of warmth and times of cold, and we are doomed to forever fluctuate between the uncomfortable nature of movement”  or “hm… the meeting was very round but sharp feeling and not in a good way”, the other person likely would have to ask for clarification on what is meant by those things

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Generally disorganized thought patterns, like frequently rambling about things that have nothing to do with the topic at hand , being unable to keep track of a topic, often forgetting what you were saying, jumping from one idea to the next too fast for people to keep up and even see a correlation, etc

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Using odd words for things, such as someone stating they were not ‘talkable’ at work (which you can understand means that they weren’t very social or talkative, but the word choice is still strange)

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Mixed around sentences that aren’t entirely organized  ( “I was, or were, was, uh,, going get the cake was on the shelf, I had to , um ,, up to the shelf stand on the for the cake to get the cake since was feeling, you know I um,  not enough sugar in my body, so I thought to eat the cake” (you can tell it’s basically: ‘I felt like I needed some sugar so I thought I could have some cake and I had to stand on something in order to reach it to get it from the shelf’ , but it’s not very organized and a little strange))

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Basically just speech and thought patterns that are hard to follow or seem odd, or may get in the way of expressing one’s self in an organized and understandable manner, may interfere with social interactions and etc. 

-

Also this is a thing here (link) that has some good examples written out, which can be useful to look at , but also keep in mind that some of these more severe ones like word salad would not apply to StPD, as meaning of speech shouldn’t be entirely lost. The thought/speech distortions in StPD are usually not severe enough to make the person fully incomprehensible. It may sound odd or slightly difficult to follow but is not extreme to the point that the person is actually incoherent.

-

also note: Odd thinking and speech would be present in multiple scenarios. Everyone can have disorganized speech and etc. if they’re very nervous giving a presentation or under the influence of something or etc., This would only count if it was something frequent and long lasting in multiple contexts, like most all criteria

Hopefully this helped answer your question! Some of this stuff can be the most complicated due to it being difficult to find a good frame of reference for what counts as odd or unusal or etc. but hopefully this helped some. We also have a lot more information in our Resources page here (link). Feel free to send another ask if you need clarification on anything! Have a great day, anon! - Luca