#Something something stigmatisation of anger

[skitskatstudios]

I love how the students of PK Academy (after the volcano) are like “Oh no, it’s former delinquent Kuboyasu. Better stay away from him.” But at this point, he’s gone through so much character growth that he’s literally just a guy that gets anger management therapy.

[katboykirby]

So I like to think that cigarettes exist in the Devildom, and that they have their own brands and everything. Smoking is also probably more common and less stigmatised/hated than it is in (many places of) the human world. Humans are actually the reason that demons learned about smoking in the first place, and Devildom cigarettes are functionally identical to human-world cigarettes (since demons have basically copied the production method 1:1 from humans)

Demons aren't negatively affected by tobacco, nicotine, and smoking in general like humans are. So it's a lot more socially acceptable - it's still not common, but without the horrible side effects like lung cancer, heart disease, etc, it's not seen or thought of as a "bad habit" like it is for many humans.

Lucifer smokes occasionally, mostly for stress relief when he's overworked. He'll usually only indulge when he's on his own, mostly whenever he needs to calm down and decompress. The only room in the HoL where he'll smoke is in his study. Even for something as small as a cigarette, he doesn't like to be seen "relying" on anything to help him, thanks to his Pride.

Mammon will sometimes smoke, and he mostly does it when he's out at the club or in the casino. He's a "social smoker" like someone might be a social drinker. He's unlikely to ever pick up a cigarette at home or at RAD, but if he's out in the city partying the night away or gambling with a bunch of the Devildom's high-rollers, then he's more likely to light one up. He's also been photographed with cigs for the odd magazine spread.

Satan used to smoke, and he used to be the heaviest smoker in the family. He has since "quit" however, and claims that he no longer indulges in the habit. This is because he mostly smoked when he was younger and still full of rage, struggling to handle his Wrath without losing control of himself. Smoking helped him calm down and reduced his anger, and he would smoke for similar reasons as Lucifer (stress relief)

Satan maintains that he's put this part of his life behind him, though, and that it's been a very long time since he needed a crutch like cigarettes to help him stay calm. This is mostly true, though when exam season rolls around at RAD (and when he's stressed out trying to tutor five of his brothers as well as study for his own finals) Satan will secretly smoke in his room.

Diavolo doesn't normally smoke, but he'll do so on the rare occasions he meets with the Devildom's House of Lords. Many of the sitting members of the House smoke cigars or pipes, and Diavolo is socially savvy enough to light up a smoke as well in order to make a good impression. He may also smoke with Lucifer, but only if the Avatar of Pride pulls out his cigarettes first.

Mephistopheles has tried, on many occasions, to smoke with Diavolo whenever the Prince has done so - but Mephisto just turns into a coughing, spluttering mess every time. He can't handle even the mildest of cigarettes, and since it embarrasses him that he always starts choking and wheezing, he usually pretends that he hates smoking and will shit talk the habit.

[tidesreach]

i think the issue with cql/mdzs fandom (specifically jiang cheng antis) is that it seems to have a very rigid view on a) what being a good person looks like and b) what trauma looks like, or significantly, what it should look like, and c) the meeting point of the two: what being a good person with trauma should look like. e.g. the way wei wuxian is held up as this sort of shining example of how to be traumatised the right way. so much of this fandom consistently frames wei wuxian as Good Traumatised rather than what he actually is, which is quite simply a person with various trauma responses and trauma-learnt behaviours that he did not choose and that have no actual bearing on his goodness. whereas jiang cheng is condemned as Bad Traumatised when actually he is just a person with different trauma responses and trauma-learnt behaviours that he also did not choose and that also have no actual bearing on his goodness. people categorising the way wei wuxian responds to his trauma as Good and the way jiang cheng responds to it as Bad (or even Evil) is a mindset that is deeply rooted in stigma whether you realise it or not.

like, i don't interact with jc antis if i can help it. which, yeah, is because i have no interest in reading endless hate posts. but i also steer clear predominantly because as someone with a heavily stigmatised mental illness a lot of the discussion around jiang cheng and the notion that trauma making you angry and hateful = Bad reads as "i support people with mental illness but only the people with symptoms that i personally find palatable" which is very reminiscent of frankly dehumanising real life debates around whether people who display certain symptoms (people like me) are worthy of help (or whether they even can be helped or whether they are just inherently terrible people etc.). and that is a horrible and damaging thing to read about yourself.

essentially, it all boils down to the wholly problematic idea that there are right and wrong ways to be traumatised—as if (in the absense of therapy and/or medication) you have any choice or control over your own symptoms/trauma responses—and that anything that doesn't fit into the "trauma made me kinder" mold is the wrong way to be traumatised. which is exactly what stigma is and why a lot of people have to fight so hard to get a modicum of help. so much of the language used around jiang cheng's trauma and his emotional responses to that trauma is rooted in real life stigmatising rhetoric that denies people the help they need and deserve because they're not the right type of mentally ill. this mindset that wei wuxian did trauma right and jiang cheng did trauma wrong is based on a made up concept designed to demonise certain mental illnesses.

it's like, there are so many takes which go something like, "well, wei wuxian has trauma too and he didn't do x, y, z." and sure, you're right, he didn't do x, y, z, but he did do a, b, c, if you see what i'm getting at. and arguing that a, b, c, are better responses than x, y, z shows a lack of understanding of the complexity of trauma and the way it can be informed by self-perception or perception other people have of you, i.e. it can become a bit (or a lot) of a self-fulfilling prophecy. because if anything the idea that trauma made wwx kinder oversimplifies the damaging effects it actually had on him. because it also made him reckless and (re)vengeful. it also gave him a messy saviour complex that repeatedly leads to ruin (like, man, when jiang cheng says to wei wuxian in anger, "wei wuxian, do you have a saviour complex?" he reads him very well. he knows him very well. in the same way wei wuxian knows that jiang cheng holds on to too much anger). wei wuxian's trauma is just as messy as jiang cheng's but it manifests in very different ways. different ways, not the right ways. wei wuxian's trauma responses hurt people too and you can acknowledge that. it doesn't make him Bad.

what seems to cause real issue though, is the differences in the way they respond to trauma. what causes real issue is that those differences are indisputably to do with certain symptoms jiang cheng displays being the more stigmatised ones. it's his anger and hatred and volatility. it's his very extreme fear of abandonment and equally extreme efforts to avoid it by furiously protecting what he has left because he cannot bear to lose anything or anyone else. it's his dichotomous thinking that can make him irrational. but those are not evil or wrong trauma responses. they're just trauma responses and they are actually fairly common trauma responses at that. certainly more common than "trauma made me kinder". i don't know who needs to hear this but a person's involuntary emotional responses to trauma are not an indication of whether they are a good person or not. you can struggle with anger and hatred and symptoms considered "less palatable" and still be a good person. trauma does not give "bad" symptoms to bad people and "good" symptoms to good people because there is no such thing as a morally good or a morally bad symptom.

people need to stop letting stigma inform their (mis)understandings of mental health and trauma and try to remember that there are real life people who suffer from the symptoms they are stigmatising and who face barriers every single day because of that stigma.

[kvaradonaa]

Hello I'm coming in good faith to ask if you could explain your feelings about RPF and maybe why sports RPF is so popular. Mainly asking because I've been having some RPF thoughts about a couple of celebrities I enjoy and I'm pretty new to this stuff and need some guidance. I know about the basic dos and don'ts of RPF like avoiding defamation and harassing the people your write about, I just wanna get more into the details.

I'm gonna be honest with you, you might have chosen a wrong person to talk to. I am, what I unofficially called, a bitter RPF writer. As opposed to enthusiastic fans RPF writer, or neutal analysing RPF writers. If I didn't do RPF, my love for football would probably not prevail. I have so much anger inside me that such industry would be difficult to look at.

Why is RPF popular? I think it depends on a person. Some people are genuinely in love with the celebrities, or at least attracted to them. Some enjoy this "research" aspect of collecting various videos, articles, other sources. I don't think there is one "right" way to do RPF. Some people write basically OCs with faceclaims (I even saw the word "faceclaim" used in one older RPF community), some people get heavily inspired by actual events and rumours.

Why is sports RPF so popular in particular? Because sports provides for a lot of human interactions, and fanfic is mainly ship-driven. A lot of rather "extreme" or unusual interactions too. As someone who did a bit of theatre, I imagine the dynamics in a football team to be strangely similar. You get to know each other very quickly, but not like people do "on the outside". You learn about someone's stress reactions, someone's approach to victory or rivalry, about someone's sensitivity to certain things. And only later, if ever, you learn what they like to do in their free time, what is their favourite band or what are their goals for life. This kind of atmosphere is definitely inspiring for a lot of shippers.

And as for any ethics... Well, if you don't feel comfortable sharing your RPF creations, you can always make your account private, hide it from search engines or lock your works for logged users only (either of those will definitely be available on whatever site you are using). I'd personally wouldn't post on sites like Twitter or Instagram, where there is huge traffic or non-RPF fans and people from the industry too. But I know some people do, often using some kind of a privacy method.

I think the most important thing is to remember that whatever you do, it's fictional. It sounds so obvious, but it might not really be. Some people get attached a lot. Some people have actual theories about those people. We use real sources, a lot of them speculative or straight up fake. It's important to keep in mind that there is someone's persona, which exists up to public interpretation, there is your interpretation of it, and then there is an actual person behind it whom you will never truly know.

To be honest, for me, RPF is neither inherently good or bad in my opinion. It's just something that people do. I think RPF gets really stigmatised mostly because it deals with queerness and sexuality. What is "The Crown" is not published RPF? Or, in football community, The Champions? 😂

[overelegantstranger]

madpunk inflected mental health and hearing voices talk under the cut

i've been thinking about the hearing voices thing. For a little clarity I'm going to define my terms. by "hearing voices" I'm meaning three things:

the near constant thoughts of "you should die, you should kill yourself, everyone would be better off if you weren't around" that happen on my period, and which always feel like they're coming from, if not literally outside my head, outside "my space" in my head. At at least one point, they felt/sounded like they were coming from a female, mother-y person, whose voice was very specific and distinct

the similar, but not identical, thoughts that can happen when i'm, or possibly Tank is, struggling with feeling angry or resentful or upset. The last time he experienced it, he described it as an internal radio he couldn't get away from, to the point of trying to physically block his ears and drown it out. These often start as like, for example, "I can't believe they would do that" and might be Tank's or my thoughts, and escalate until they become a "radio", causing feelings of anger and resentment that are disproportionate to the thoughts that either of us would have laid claim to

The having of at least two other people in my head who seem able to project thoughts to me. This one is, in a way, the hardest to identify, because I thought it was normal for a long time, and I don't precisely know how much internal dialogue is "normal" and how much is potentially included in "hearing voices". So say I might be saying in my head "I'm just feeling x, y, z" and then I might "hear" "yeah, because a, b, c", such as you might have when telling a friend what you're feeling. and sometimes these dialogues would confuse me, like, why am i having these "yeah, and" thoughts? it's just rephrasing what i JUST said, or put words on what was vaguely in my mind. But overall I thought they were just normal and maybe they are.

I've been thinking about all these, but particularly the first two. Initially I was looking into menstrual psychosis, because psychosis is a "scary", stigmatised term and I wasn't sure if I had discounted it because of stigma (context: I maybe have PMDD but the timing is always on my period, never before. But menstrual psychosis, while timed correctly, doesn't seem to match my symptoms).

And I just kept thinking. There was something about being at therapy on Monday, and being openly plural and talking a little about my childhood, and having my pluralness accepted as fact, that made me kind of see it from outside and think that this isn't really super "normal", like, idk.

I guess, because my mum has depression, that me developing an intense anxiety issue and even OCD, is "normal". I realise for most people this is an Issue, but for me, while it's scary and awful and disabling, That's Just What Brains Do. I have at least four generations of mental health problems on that side, you know? I have just sort of absorbed the idea of being mentally ill without it shifting my mental perception of myself, because to me, it was as natural as being blue-eyed.

But now, I'm beginning to both clearly see that firstly, my anxiety and ocd was not a forgone conclusion and not an unfortunate genetic side effect but instead a response to how I was raised and how fucked up my childhood was, and see that what I'm experiencing now is something that someone outside of me might call insane (no stigma necessarily intended; we're a madpunk household).

Like, I was, while living with my parents, actively experiencing symptoms that are socially a shorthand for "insane". I still am now but the point is that that was so invisible I didn't even recognise it for the potentially worrying symptom it was. And maybe in a clinical sense what I'm talking about Isn't really hearing voices. I don't really know. But the point is I'm finally seeing myself as actively, actually, mentally ill, due to largely avoidable incidents and patterns of behaviour from my caregivers, and that those patterns of behaviour have, and i'm using this language for emphasis, actually driven me insane.

[iravaid]

I love your writing so much, your Simon Riley in Situations series is probably one of my favorite works in the entire fandom!!! The way you write tommy and simon’s relationship gives me so much emotions lol, like even though it only comes up a couple times in the entire series there’s just so much there! That flashback we get in in the desert was just a brief glimpse, and yet it was so much more powerful than how they were written in the entire canon comic (which might not be saying much because that comic left a lot to be desired, but still) It had me imagining their relationship as kids, and how tommy probably had a much easier time navigating their dad’s moods while simon struggled to pick up the social cues and unspoken meanings behind words and stuff like that, and how tommy, as a kid growing up in a pretty ableist society who had probably never even heard of autism until his teen years, would probably get frustrated with simon and not understand why he couldn’t just say the right things when he needed to, why he couldn’t just do what he needed to do to not make the situation worse (and simon feeling the same way and wondering why he couldn’t just know how to smile and say what people wanted to hear, like tommy) (This ended up being long and rambling but your fics just give me so many riley brothers feels lol XD)

Oh shit!! Thank you so much!!!! I'm so happy you enjoy this series, especially the relationship between Tommy and Simon!! It's genuinely so interesting to me and has a lot of potential to be built upon, considering how little there is for them in the comics (both a blessing and a curse let's be honest).

Augh, yeah, them as kids has a lot of emotional oomph, especially if taken the way I have, in all essentialities, taken the characters in my grubby mitts and gotten lint all over them. Tommy probably was the golden child in this family, Nigel played a lot of games in tormenting his kids, and I imagine turning them against each other, or at the very least Tommy against Simon, was one of them. I wonder if that dynamic might have changed when Simon left, leaving Tommy to be the only child in the house and no longer having a 'weird' older brother occupying the role of scapegoat (and protector, in his own way). In the beginning, I can see Tommy hating Simon for leaving, it's easier than hating his abusive dad at this point.

Things do change for the better, and in all honesties I can see Tommy getting therapy/counselling as an adult and learning how to become better adjusted and look back on his childhood with a trauma-informed lense, equipped with a kind of knowledge and vocabulary Simon doesn't/refuses to have. Internalied ableism definitely informs how they process their trauma and percieve therapy, and for Simon this is another brick in that wall after growing up the 'strange' one in the family that just doesn't get it. This is another thing he doesn't get, and it's a source of anger for him.

I imagine there is a lot of frustration for Tommy in the things you mentioned above, which is a dynamic I love love love, considering Autistic Simon growing up in Manchester in the 80s/90s at this point would be. A Lot for both of them, for different reasons. I imagine it would serve to emphasise that feeling of isolation Simon feels in this series, and I would go so far as to say Tommy doesn't hear the word 'autism' until he's an adult/in his 20s. Before then it was always alluded to, or people saying 'he's rather... odd.' about Simon with a strange expression on their faces. Autism and Asperger's (it's an outdated term now, but one that was used then) were very stigmatised and you were seen as there was something wrong with you or you were 'slow'.

God but their potential brotherhood when Simon comes back and kicks Nigel out of the house, and helps Tommy heal. I really love the complexity of their relationship, how two brothers who survived an awful childhood have different ways of coping and healing from it. Again, all in our collective heads, but I'm happy the comics only gave us the bare bones to play with. We'll grow our own meat, with blackjack and hookers.

I really want to write/am in the process of writing a fic set in Tommy's POV, waiting for his brother, beginning from Simon being announced missing after he's caught by Roba, to him being found and returned home, and ending just before That Scene. I want to explore their brotherhood through Tommy's eyes, how disparate some parts of them are and how similar others have ended up, as well as play on a theme Ghost haunting the family well before Simon is returned and believes himself dead. I'm unsure how it'll end up, but the goal is a 20k oneshot. Hopin to work on it in earnest in August, when Art Fight is over :D

Again! Thank you so much for this message! Had a big grin reading this, I'm so happy you liked those fics! Hell yeah!

[jamie-is-out-of-ideas]

Why Do People Say They Want Tourrete's

Okay so like coming up on 2 years now, I was diagnosed with Tourrette's Syndrome, and like, it sucks ass. Like I know it's kinda shitty to say but having it is shitty. I will never understand the people who fake it for attention, or say they wish they had it so they could swear in public. Like I wish I could give those people what I have to deal with for like 2 days, and then they'd shut their mouths. Like being able to swear in public and attention from others is not worth the pain it causes someone who has it.

I'm embarrassed to go outside and go to family gatherings and be around my younger cousins (one of them forgot my name). I have motor tics that cause me to physically hurt myself. One time I wasn't wearing long pants and I was angry and I had a tic in response to my anger and that tic was me punching myself in the thigh and it left a horrible bruise for a while (large and purple and painful). I have common tics where I bonk myself on the top of my head or hit myself in the face. And there is also a motor tic I have where I bite myself, rather hard sometimes.

In eight grade (pre-diagnoses) I was ticcing (if that's how you phrase it) and I was flapping my hands and my English/Socials teacher was in the middle of explaining something, stopped and said " Jamie, what are you doing?" I was sitting in the front row, so everyone was able to see me, and they were all staring at me, now on top of that, I also didn't have an answer because I didn't know what I was doing, I had no explanation for her so I just stuttered over my words and tearing up. My math teacher was worse that year definitely, she called my tics a distraction and suggested in a condescending way that whenever i was having tics I should go on a 5 minute walk. Now if you have or know anything about Tourrete's or have it/ a tic disorder, you can see how that would be a problem. Also in repose to the swearing thing, only 10% of people with Tourrette's Syndrome actually have vulgar vocal tics, it's called Corprolalia, and despite affecting a minority of people with Tourrette's its the most stigmatised aspect of it.

So people who think its funny or want it just to get attention or just to be able to say inappropriate things without getting in trouble, please carefully consider having to deal with every aspect of this and then how much people who do have envy you and the normalcy you have.

[pageofheartdj]

YEAH collector and Luz parallels are SO good. They're both trying their best but things get heavy and hard and aelrkgm. They're both just neurodivergent kids trying their best <3

but OO do you have a hc for a specific PD? I completely agree with your point of people having even less tolerance for people with PDs, which is really sad tbh. The Collector being treated kindly in canon while also (headcanon) having a personality disorder would definitely be very nice to see, because it's not like adults with PD just appear outta nowhere right?

They were kids at some point, possibly kids that struggle and don't get the help they needed <- not to justify people who do bad things, but like everything is so much more complex than just "this person bad because of [insert thing here]"

Anyways you're pulling me into the Collector-specific fandom, thanks! xD

Luz and Collector are paralleling so much it's unreal!XD Really hope for some quality ND bonding <3

Yes! Trauma is a very common reason of a person developing pd! And often adults are struggling and hurting others because they were not helped with how to deal with it in a healthy manner, just shunned. And being treated like some kind of irredeemable evil, which is so unfair and not true!

I hc Collector having BPD. And since this pd is one of the most stigmatised ones, it would be nice to see a character being treated with care and patience.

I am no way stating like some kind of professional, I just liked reading about them. For me Collector has mood swings, jumping from positive to negative emotions in a click, especially with explosive anger. Unstable relationships, Collector treated Philip as his friend but then quickly dropped it and attacked after Philip betrayed him, and then as quickly attached himself to King, someone who freed him, immediately calling him his best friend. And for me his behaviour in the episode looked like coming from fear of abandoment. Impulsive behaviour is not something I can find in canon(although he is impulsive by child standards xD) but I can see him having something like that in theory. Also maybe unstable self image? He was alone for a long time and we see him being different with Philip and King.

[dreamhot]

okay this might be slightly random but I don’t really have someone to talk to about this and I just need to rant but it genuinely upsets me that people are pretending that sapnap punching a wall means he has anger issues because for a lot of people there’s more to it than what is essentially “white male rage”. my mental illnesses have essentially numbed my emotions so that now anger is one of the few things I actually can feel (when you don’t let yourself feel anything it will essentially all come out all at once and mostly as anger) and having these outbursts feels absolutely horrible and they are draining and exhausting and you are in danger of hurting yourself (and others if they are around) and idk where I’m going with this but I just feel like it’s very telling that this is coming from people who claim they care about destigmatising mental illness but then completely ignore the ugly sides of it that they can’t personally relate to

i was offline for most of the hole in the wall discourse (so to speak) so i wasn't around to see people's takes, but . i certainly saw ... some polarising opinions when i came back. i thought the original comment was a joke Anyway so when i saw sapnap's priv tweets having to explain himself, it was like seeing a shark fin on the horizon like oh boy i wonder what i'm missing rn

under a cut bc this is kinda long and mildly aimless

in any case, i think anger is an emotion that people will inevitably have Very different stances on, particularly bc it's one of the toughest emotions to manage (imo). it's so often repressed or ignored, and people aren't taught to deal with it in a healthy manner. sometimes it's the result of mental illness, as you mentioned, and sometimes it's just ... There. and i think it's not wholly unreasonable for people to be wary about violent outbursts (for what i hope are obvious reasons), but that wariness can coexist with understanding for /why/ the anger might be there, ykwim? suffice to say you can't just project a narrative onto someone else's emotions & demand they control their feelings in xyz way (assuming they're not hurting themselves or others ofc, not that 'control' is the answer there anyway, but yknow)

like. there's a dent in my wall from someone who kicked it when they were angry at me. that person was very mentally ill, and the kick was the result of a collection of stressors that got set off by something (innocuous but pissy) i did, but it was still scary. i'm not a remotely physically aggressive person, so that isn't how my anger manifests, and it can be frightening to see it happen around me. so like ... i get why they did it, and i'm sympathetic to the reasoning, but i'm still uncomfortable with it. i'm not certain if that falls under stigmatising, but i don't think it's necessarily ... an issue, as long as it doesn't become a demonising outlook, i suppose

it's also why the shit i saw like 'i would let him punch holes in my walls' made me feel so unnerved like man this isn't something cute to be joking about, no matter the reasoning behind it. but idk

sorry this was mostly just me rambling, but like. tl;dr anger is a tough emotion to grapple with, whether you're experiencing it or watching someone else express it, and i think we can be compassionate about its causes while still being mindful of our own comfort levels

[eldritchsurveys]

1247.

What feeling do you have the most difficult in expressing? >> If we're talking about expressing them to other people, none of them are easy for me. I guess the one I'm most accustomed to expressing is anger, because I spent a lot of time stuck with people who thrived on conflict. Maybe the hardest thing for me to express is affection, considering my very fraught relational history. It feels unsafe to express anything, but it feels particularly unsafe to express fondness for a person.

Do you make your bed everyday? Why/why not? >> I never make my bed. Because I'm always in it. But also because I think it's more logical to turn the sheets down and let the bed air out when I'm not in it. Does any particular season make you happier than others? Why/why not? >> Spring. It makes me feel like I'm coming back to life along with the earth.

Do you give money to homeless people/beggars? Why/why not? >> I usually don't have any money to give. Every once in a while I will have a couple of bucks in cash on me and I'll give it to someone, but it's not something I can do more than once in a blue moon. Also, I don't feel any sense of obligation to do it, either, not from my meager economic status. Not when there are so many people in this very city with the kind of money where dropping a full $20 into a homeless person's hand would be like nothing to them... not when the government stigmatises and marginalises poor and destitute people and happily deprives them of the same financial resources they pour into defense budgets and capitalistic ventures... I mean, I'm just saying. Put the onus where it belongs.

What do you feel is your number one flaw? Are you doing anything about it? >> My flaw is that I don't see any of my traits or behaviours as flaws. ;)

Do you see yourself as worthy of love? Why/why not? >> I think it's very difficult to feel my worthiness of love when I'm not receiving any. What use is being "worthy", then? It doesn't matter what I deserve, it matters what I am getting. If no one is willing to love me in the way I need or want, then...??? Saying "I'm worthy of love ~*~*" to myself isn't going to keep me warm and fed, man.

Do you think you are competitive? Do you really dislike losing? >> I'm really not. I find competition entirely uninteresting, unless it's the playful, silly kind like when you play board games with your friends. Or, for example, I like to do stupid shit like stack draw-4s and then pile them on people in UNO because I think it's funny but people get really mad about that sort of thing and I just don't get it. This is the most low-stakes situation possible, why does it matter if I make you draw 24 cards? Is that not just incredibly silly and ridiculous? I for one find it hilarious when it happens to me, losing a game in an absurd way like that is peak comedy imo. I also don't mind losing at skill games because I think it's cool when people are really good at things; the only thing that bothers me is if I also want to learn to be good at it and I can't figure out how they're doing it, lol. And competitive people don't really want to share their strategies because they want to be the best. So, yeah, all in all I don't like doing things with competitive people. On which topics do you feel qualified at giving advice? >> I don't know, I have zero practice in giving advice period. I have a fair amount of useful experience and knowledge, I just don't know how I would share it with other people.

Will you be single over winter? .

Do you add random questions into surveys when you take them? >> I don't.

Would you get married if you could right now? >> I am already married.

Do you consider yourself spoiled? >> There is nothing about my life that could suggest even the merest possibility of me being spoiled. Do you remember the first time you kissed the last person you kissed? .

Have you ever slept on a couch with that person? .

Have you written a letter to a soldier? >> I have not.

Where are the majority of your clothes from? >> I don't think there is a majority. My clothes come from all over the place.

Does being in love make you nervous? >> Inworld, it doesn't. But if I were to experience it outworld, I think it would make me extremely anxious and unsettled. Considering my history.

Would you do your own surgery to keep yourself alive? (ex. stitches) >> I'm sure I would, if it were to keep myself alive. A person often finds they can do quite a bit more than they normally would, in that situation. Also, yeah, self-surgery has a high risk factor, but if I'm already dying anyway, that becomes far less of a concern.

Have you ever had any really infected injuries? >> I have not. The only infection I've ever had was a mild one after oral surgery.

Is racism for losers? >> This is too flippant a question for me.

Is there any band out there that you like every song by them? >> Every song... hmm... I don't think so.

Are you popular on any websites? >> I am not.

Have you ever cussed/swore in front of younger children? >> Sure.

Will you go to your high school reunion? >> I wouldn't even know it was happening if it did. Also, I'm completely uninterested. If you could meet one famous person, who would it be? >> Nick Cave, maybe. He just seems so compassionate. I want to bask in some of that energy.

Do you hate it when people look over your shoulder? >> I sure the fuck do. Even if I'm showing someone something. I'll get up and you can sit in the chair or whatever, just... don't hover over me like that.

Would you consider yourself hypocritical? >> I wouldn't consider myself hypocritical because I don't see that as a personality trait. I can behave hypocritically at times, sure. Do you know anyone who had had a heart attack under 30 years of age? >> I assume not.

Are you considered popular at school? .

If you were starving would you eat food out of a garbage can? >> I've eaten dumpster food on quite a few occasions, and the way people freak out about this concept is a bit alienating to me, if I'm honest. Like... yeah, it kind of sucks, and it definitely speaks to how much perfectly serviceable food is thrown away when there are plenty of people who could be eating it, which is a fucked-up thing to realise about society. They'd rather have people rooting through dumpsters than just give the food to them. But... I don't know. I guess I just think about like, how these "fringe" (not really fringe, not in this economy, BUT) experiences are seen by the average person, how horrified they are when they try to imagine themselves in the same situation, and it feels a bit... othering, is the word, maybe. I can't explain it, it's a feeling you either get or don't, I guess. When you last watched a movie, did you watch it alone or with someone? >> Alone. Does your job allow piercings or tattoos? .

Ever had a caricature done of yourself? How much was it, and were you satisfied with it? >> I have not. I don't think I would enjoy that very much. Do you like peanut butter and fluff sandwiches? >> I have never had one.

Ever been to Gaia Online? Do you have an account? >> I was really into Gaia Online in the late aughts. I do still have my account, with its trillions of gold that is worth jack-shit because the site admins fucked the economy so bad. Here's my avatar!

If you got married and then got divorced, would you want to re-marry? >> I think marriage is not a legal institution that benefits me, in my particular socioeconomic situation. I probably would not do it again, unless a lot of things changed about the United States real quick.

Would you ever enlist in the army? >> I'd literally rather die. Last time you were at a job interview? How did it go? .

What’s one place you’d NEVER want to work at? >> There are so many places I'd never want to work at. Not even necessarily because they're particularly noxious (although that is true for a lot of them), but because I am just remarkably unsuited for employment.

Do you use Tumblr? What do you normally post? >> I do. I post stuff about myself/Us or about the video game worlds I play in. I also have an annexed blog for stuff I reblog, which spans a pretty wide variety of subjects.

Did you tease freshmen in high school? >> Of course not. I did not have the social currency to be teasing anyone.

Last thing that pissed you off? >> I was reading a r/InternalFamilySystems thread and someone said something about seeking a professional's assistance and "you can get really hurt if you do this work by yourself". And every time I read something like that I get so enraged, because, well, what the fuck else am I supposed to do? For me, professional assistance is entirely inaccessible. I gotta risk fucking myself up worse in the hopes of living a better life, because I can't afford anything different? And the rage is not directed to the person saying it, because I know that's not what they mean, but it's just a general rage at having to help myself, having to do everything for myself, just... that whole thing. I would fucking love help, dude! Who's going to give it! What’s something you have a very strong opinion about? >> I love how many surveys are often just... frankensteined. Had to delete a bunch of questions because I just did them on a different survey within the past week and this is obviously an amalgamation of that survey and several others, and I'm sure that one is also a frankenstein of several other surveys. Anyway, I have a lot of strong opinions but I can't just think of them off the top of my head at random. Actually, I might have already expressed a strong opinion during the course of taking this survey. Are you family-orientated in everything you do? .

Do others consider you to be stuck up? .

Would you often call yourself a moody person? >> I do consider myself a moody person.

Are you self-sufficient? >> I am not.

Sleep position? >> Side.

Who is your best friend? . Do you have an online best friend as well? . Who is your favorite person to spend time with? .

Have you ever had tendinitis? >> I have not.

Do you know how to grill a steak? >> I absolutely do not.

Do you mosh when you go to concerts/shows? >> I do not, that's not my thing at all. I like to watch other people doing it, though.

When’s the last time you went to a nightclub? .

Are you good at playing darts? >> I vaguely recall playing it a couple of times at a local bar when I first moved out here, but I don't remember if I was any good at it.

Are “school friends” and friends different to you? . Do you like breaded chicken sandwiches? >> Like, fried chicken? I sure do.

Ever been friends with someone you didn’t expect? >>

Do you keep notes, drawings or letters that people give you? >> Sometimes. Have you had a significant other that you never kissed? >> I don't think so. Do you depend on people at all, in any way? >> Of course. Have you written or drawn anything for somebody else? >> I have.

Do you have any pictures of yourself with the person you like? .

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Baying Dogs (Rewrite); Chapter Five: Diagnosis

Hello! Sorry for the delay in uploading this, exams are well under way which I've been prioritising. I've also had a freak accident with boiling water and now I have a huge second-degree burn covering one of my arms... that's probably going to take some time to heal.

In the meantime, because I know there's going to be more delays in writing and uploading chapters, lol, have a cheeky lil reread :P. See if you need to rethink your suspects :).

Warnings for: Strong language, gore, body horror (only slight), mentions of violence and menstruation (this isn't me stigmatising, but I know it can still be a sensitive topic for some people so I am giving a heads' up)

Word count: 4, 972

He was horrified. He wanted to gag.

Eyes were wide, bulging.

All he could do was stare.

Price thought he was accustomed to violence and brutality, having been in this line of work for a while now. Even he himself had committed a few atrocities of his own. And yet, here he stood, at a loss for words, like he had just seen death for the first time.

The gore was almost… gratuitous.

“Gaz…” He finally managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dougs hadn’t uttered anything. She couldn’t. All she did was cover her mouth in shock as she knelt before the corpse, hoping if she stared long enough… his eyes would stare back.

Flies hovered above the body, occasionally swooping down to take fresh pickings of drying blood.

There wasn’t any heat to him anymore, guts no longer steaming.

Price drew in a shaky breath. He swallowed hard. The horror was subsiding and replacing it was grief, grief which bubbled just under the surface, just waiting to boil over into a froth of anger. The captain could feel it. He was inconsolable. Any mutterings of assurances, any condolences given in goodwill, would only piss him off. Whoever did this... because he damn well knew it was ‘who’. He had known it was a ‘who’ from the start. Only now, as he fell before Gaz’s eviscerated corpse, did he truly care.

This proved that the man hadn’t been hardened at all, nor had he grown numb.

Inside him was a heart which pounded in his chest and a stomach which growled for blood.

They would pay. The murderer would pay.

Slowly, he turned to Dougs.

“You found him like this?”

That wasn’t a question, that sounded like a demand.

His teeth were clenched, lips peeled back in a snarl.

“Yes, sir.”

“Just now?”

“I screamed when I saw him.”

“You better be telling the truth.”

She gulped.

“I am.”

Price exhaled and looked behind to the others.

“Who did this?”

“Sir, we need to report-”

“WHO DID THIS?!”

They straightened up, remaining silent.

Price looked back at the body. Protocol would demand he report to Shepherd and inform him of the death but… God! He needed time. Time to think. He had already acknowledged the reality of the situation but what to do about this information which sat before him, red and raked with gaping wounds.... had yet to be seen.

Gaz had been through a lot with him. Gaz had been his righthand man. Price had kicked off his career in this line of work, mentoring him from the very beginning. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end. Price should be in his place, with his guts out, bathing in the morning sun as it warmed his pallid skin. Gaz was the one who should be living.

The captain had had his heyday, his adventures, his progression.

Gaz hadn’t.

Graves knelt by him.

“Price, we need to report to Shepherd, now.”

Price was paralysed.

Graves shook him a little.

“Shepherd needs to know. Stat.”

Price nodded and got up.

He made to address all of them.

“Whoever’s done this. I’ll fucking find out either way so one of you better start thinking about fessing up. And when you do,” his voice was pretty much a growl, guttural with barely contained rage, “I’ll kill you.”

With that, he took his leave, letting Graves walk him back to the barracks.

And then, there were three.

Dougs could see something white amidst the red once more.

Another tooth?

She looked back to the two men standing behind her.

Soap met her eyes and quickly moved to avert her gaze. Eventually, he decided to head back into the dilapidated base.

Ghost lingered for a few moments longer, staring at the body… like he was in some sort of trance.

He was probably having a rude awakening, much like Price.

Soon, he too left.

I hope you stay put, Gaz.

The medic scurried off but came back in a flash. On both her hands were a pair of gloves, and in her dominant hand, a pair of tweezers. She did what she had done with Weir.

A little bit of twisting, some tugging, the occasional wrenching and hey presto!

In the pinch of her metal grip was another tooth.

Dougs sat by Gaz, cross-legged as the sun was beginning to sit high in the sky.

“I’m sorry, Gaz…” She sniffled, “I’ll find who did this. They’ll be sorry.”

The woman got up, tucking the tooth away into her breast pocket.

“And if I don’t. Make sure you haunt them for me, yeah?”

Dougs headed for the medical room, hoping she could compare the teeth and maybe sneak in some time to begin copying those files into her notebook. She needed to compile all the evidence she could get, because now she was certain this had been a set up.

And she had a feeling Weir did too.

Everyone around the woman was saying men had attacked, or figures of men at least, but Gaz had given Weir a different account. 

“You know, it’s odd you two are saying men struck you because Sergeant Garrick over there said it was animals.”

Price had looked over to Gaz, who now had his head in his hands, leg jigging up and down. 

“Animals?”

“Aye.”

Soap lowered his voice. 

“Gaz is saying animals hit us?”

Weir shifted uncomfortably, rising to her full height from her previous position squatting by the bedside. 

“He was the first of you to come to, all of you completely crashed when your bodies hit the beds.” Weir gave a small laugh, shaking her head before continuing, “When I asked about what happened and what I should build my report to General Shepherd on, Garrick said that Task Force 141 had been struck by a pack of animals.”

Price sighed, running a hand over his moustache. 

“I think Gaz is pretty shaken up.” He proposed, “I think we all are. None of us were expecting this.”

“If I’m honest,” Weir ran a hand through her hair, “I think this whole thing is a botched job. Clearly, something’s off because we were told one thing and you were told-”

Once she was out of here, maybe Dougs could build a case? Get someone to look, get the right people to look at this.

She sighed.

All she could do was hope.

***

“This is Gold Eagle Actual.”

“Sir, Sergeant…” He took a deep breath, “Sergeant Kyle Garrick has been murdered.”

“Murdered?”

“Yes. Sergeant Garrick has been murdered. Don’t know exact time of death, but we found him in the morning just outside the base, Sergeant Burman-Douglas was the first to spot his body.”

“Garrick’s dead?”

“Yes, sir.”

Shepherd paused for thought.

“Garrick will be noted as K.I.A just as Weir is. Any questions?”

Price sighed. A silence fell between them.

“Status on transport?” He finally asked.

“Can’t say for sure. Northolt have been notified but we haven’t got confirmation on whether we can move into Ashdown Forest or not.” Shepherd was awfully blunt, “No transport has been officially scheduled.”

“But-”

“I’m sorry, Bravo 6. There’s not much I can do.”

Captain Price felt a pit in his stomach form.

Shepherd rubbed his temple, looking back to the beautiful view of the night sky behind him. The man was miles away from the crime scene and yet, he could imagine Price beginning to narrow his eyes.

“Do you suspect foul play?” The general decided to take the plunge and ask the question, his voice crackling a little on the radio.

Graves and Price looked at each other.

“Yes.” Price said, “I do.”

He only got a hum in reply. Whether it was of agreement or acknowledgement could not be determined.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Captain. Keep surviving and keep me posted.

As Price chucked the radio out of his hand, letting it land on the rucksack by his bed, something caught his eye.

Across from him, on the other side of the aisle, the bedframe was off. The metal looked a little bent, there were strange marks on the floor. Marks, which upon closer inspection, revealed themselves to be claw marks.

His eyebrows raised.

Graves watched him get up from his seat and head over to the other side, squatting before the odd one out. The man had shrugged off this sudden bout of curiosity from the captain, just glad that Shepherd had said he’d make sure Northolt would start hauling ass to get someone to them soon.

Price looked about the bed for more clues.

There were claw marks on the floor, along with scratches on the wall behind the headboard.

And whose bed was this?

Well, according to the bag and if memory served well, this was none other than… MacTavish’s.

His breaths grew a little unsteady.

He would wait until the evening, give the murderer a little time to feed his ego, to think he had gotten away with it but, once they were having dinner, Price knew what he’d do.

Graves did too.

Phillip decided he’d use the time Price had given Soap to deliberate on whether he should let John do what he was about to do.

***

A small knock sounded on the doorframe of the medical room.

“Come in!” Dougs called, as she finished packing away her notebook.

Footsteps tentatively crept in, and she turned around to see Soap. However, he wasn’t looking too great. All the colour had drained from the man’s face and he seemed skittery, eyes darting about. She rose up from her squatted position by her bag, not entirely facing him, almost in a combat-ready stance.

“Soap… what’s wrong?”

He seemed almost reluctant to tell, his face twisting a little as an internal debate ensued.

She noticed he kept his right arm close to his chest, hidden with his left sitting on top of it.

“Soap?” She asked, softening her voice a little.

With tears welling in his eyes, he made to meet her gaze.

“I think it’s me, doc.”

He revealed what he had been hiding.

Dougs’ mouth was held agape.

Be professional. Don’t gawk. Don’t gawk.

Alarm bells were going off in her head, though.

His nails were beyond recognisable, blood crusting the edges where keratin met skin. His hand shook as he raised it up for her to get a better look. As she examined more closely, she realised that his nails had in fact been virtually destroyed, split apart by the rupturing of blackened claws.

“Holy shit…”

What she also spotted was strange black veins which spread from his newly emerged claws. They were faint, almost looking like they had been painted on by a thin makeup brush. Except there was a warmth to them, like they were organic structures, with blood flowing through them… a stark contrast to the paling skin they sat under.

“Sit on the bed, Soap.”

He nodded and hopped up.

Dougs sanitised her hands and slapped on the third-to-last remaining pair of gloves. She gestured for him to rest his hand in hers as she eyed them closely, getting a feel for the claws.

“Does it hurt when I press them like this?”

Gently, she applied some pressure to the skin around one of the talons. Soap winced.

“Yep.”

“Okay…” Dougs chewed on her lip, “Could you tell me when this happened?”

“Just now. I… I was in the bathroom, washing my hands when I felt this itching. I gave in, scratched at the back of my hand, around my knuckles when…”

“When what?”

“My hand just locked up, like it was spasming. And then, these pop out.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yeah, but only for a moment. Now, they just sting.”

She really wasn’t sure what to do, nor was she sure what he wanted her to do.

Dougs sighed, though, in her exasperation and indecision, it came out more like a snort. Had she not have her gloves on, she would have scratched her head or stroked her chin. Instead, she resorted to spinning on the wheeled stool she sat on by Soap as a way of fidgeting as she thought.

MacTavish watched her slowly spin side to side, face making an array of ponderous expressions as she considered each and every action she could and couldn’t take.

Dougs definitely couldn’t remove the claws, they looked fixed in place, like his nails would have been. Alsos, removing them could cause more trouble anyway: more pain, increased risk of infection and so on. That was an abysmal idea. She could clean them up a little, though, which might help with the stinging in the long term and prevent infection from getting into the little open wounds from which those talon-like protrusions sprouted from. It was also the easiest thing to do.

Let’s go with the manicure.

“Okay, so, I can’t remove them, but I can clean them.”

Soap didn’t really look satisfied with that.

“Is… Is that it?”

“There’s not really much else. Plus, it might help with seeing what exactly is going on. That dried blood could be obscuring some information.” She suggested.

He shrugged but seemed to agree.

Dougs smiled and swivelled round before scooting over to the kit to grab a few alcohol wipes, some cotton balls, TCP, should it be required, and a bag to dispose them in.

Soap held out his hand. It quivered, which put Dougs at unease. As she tore open a wipe, she noticed the hand beginning to shake more.

Oh no… Don’t do this to me again.

She had to see it through, though! She had gotten everything out now, and she was also a tad bit curious to see what was under the blood. At this point, Dougs was ready to do just about anything if it would shed some light on this absolute disaster of a situation. Her hand hovered above Soap’s.

It was really shaking now.

“Soap, can you try and steady your hand?”

“I can’t.”

He was going to break her wrist, wasn’t he?

Was this a trap?

Was she taking the bait?

“Soap, do you want me to steady it? I can hold your hand still if need be.”

At least then she’d have some control over his arm.

And she was prepared to leap out of the way if he struck out with the other.

Dougs looked calm on the outside, taking steady breaths as she gestured for him to lay his wrist on her open palm, but make no mistake, outward appearances can be deceiving. Inside, she was screeching, a voice repeating in her head over and over for her to not do this. However, like with a wild animal, if you make a sudden move, they’ll respond. Dougs hoped if she gave out a calm aura, Soap wouldn’t freak out.

“Okay, so I’m just going to lightly dab-”

CRAAAACK!

“AHHHH!”

“AHHH!”

Both her and Soap jolted backwards.

His hand had steadied a little, before locking up, fingers tensing, then releasing and with that release… a new length of claws extended upwards. They pushed out with this awful sound, like some bones deep within Soap’s hand were snapping. With that, small tears had also formed on the back of his hand and on his forearm. Tears which bled a little, and also had… hair sprouting from the gashes.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He shrieked, scrambling backwards, almost falling off the edge of the bed, “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”

Dougs tried to shush him, not wanting to alert the barracks.

“Soap, let’s not panic, panicking will make this worse-”

“Dougs, look at my hand!”

He shoved it in her face.

“Look at it!”

Okay, yeah… looking.

Dougs gently moved his hand aside and rested it on his lap.

“We can’t lose our heads. You can’t lose your head, understood?”

His eyes were reddening with brewing tears, lip quivering. Blue eyes stared right into her soul, pleadingly.

“It’s me. I killed them, didn’t I?”

His voice was hoarse, whistling out his throat.

“What have I done, doc? What’s happening to me?”

Dougs paused for thought, wanting to avoid his eyes but they just followed her wherever she went. It was clear he had come to her for a diagnosis, for an answer, whether that confirmed his fears or not. She was his key. And yet, Soap found himself grinding his teeth, impatient, as she cursed him with unbearable silence. Dougs kept her eyes on the ground, once again swivelling side to side on her chair slowly, trying to think. It would be wrong to just regurgitate some falsehood and send him on his merry way but on the other hand, she hated to be the bearer of bad news which was ironic seeing as she was a doctor and that was part of the job.

She had to admit, if it was him, it was strange he had come to her. Sure, maybe telling everyone, especially Price would be a death sentence given his current state but… her?

Well, she supposed maybe the beast knew she had been snooping around. Actually, she didn’t suppose. She met him. Last night, down the hall.

This admission of guilt… Slowly, Dougs’ gaze rose to meet Soap.

He looked almost like a lost pup, eyebrows raised, peaking in the middle, while his eyes remained big and alert. A small flush was building on his face, distress and no doubt illness contributing to the slightly ruddy complexion.

She sighed and looked away briefly.

“It was me, wasnae it?”

“Are you asking, or telling me?” Dougs tilted her head to one side.

“I-”

“Honestly.”

He hung his head low.

“I don’t know.”

She leaned in, looking him in the eye, closely.

Soap held his breath, unsure of what to do as the medic just stared right into his soul. He backed up a little, as Dougs inched a little closer, eyes narrowing.

“It’s not you. It can’t be you.”

He was taken aback.

“What?”

She sighed and got on with cleaning up his bloodied hand.

“Dougs, what?”

The woman simply shrugged.

“It’s not you.”

He scoffed, letting out a small, hysterical giggle.

“What do you mean by that? It could be me. Dougs, A’ve got bloody claws!”

To his surprise, she shook her head.

“Just making sure, this is the first time this has happened?” Dougs queried, gesturing with an alcohol swab in hand.

Soap nodded.

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “I don’t think it’s you.”

What the…?

“Do you know something?”

Oooh, that was a good question. Dougs’ lips were pulled tightly into a thin line as she deliberated. She didn’t take Soap as the kind of guy to keep his mouth shut, especially when it came to something like this. He could very well oust her to the whole group if he thought that was the right thing to do, or perhaps share it with a confidante and who would then pass it along. There weren’t many of them left, if someone told someone and then that someone told someone else, it wouldn’t take long for the word to circulate.

A pang of guilt tugged at her heartstrings. He was scared, she could see that clearly.

Well, let’s see if he’s one for confidentiality.

“Can you keep a secret?”

He nodded, raising an eyebrow.

Dougs turned around and, to his surprise, took out the files like there was nothing to them.

“Uh… Dougs?!”

“Shh!”

The way she just brazenly put them on his lap, bold as brass.

She then walked up to the door, checked the hallways for any spies, before closing it.

“Open them.” She pointed to them.

Soap did so.

His eyes widened.

This… this was him. All these symptoms were him now and him to come.

Like an oracle telling the dreaded truths to come, the files bore details that filled his gut with dismay. His throat grew dry as he swallowed hard. Panic fluttered in his stomach.

Gently, he turned the page, only to be met with graphic images of bloodied jaws and… clawed hands.

“Oh my God…”

Dougs sat in front of him, tucking a lose braid behind her ear.

“Shepherd burned us.” Her face was serious, “More specifically, he’s burned you lot.”

“I… I’m going to…”

Soap’s grip on the files tightened a little.

“Hey! Don’t damage ‘em!” She quickly took the manila case from him, “Last thing we need is sticklers realising we’ve been meddling with them!”

His breaths had grown a little ragged. He clutched the sides of his head.

Dougs looked back to see he was beginning to freak out. Really freak out.

“Hey… Hey…” She knelt before him, gently removing his hands before he could hurt himself, “We’re going to survive this.”

“What if they take me away?! Do shit to me?! You’re fine! You’re immune!”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, letting out a small sigh of resignation.

“Soap, I’m on the menu.” That took a lot for her to say, “My fate isn’t either I live to be infected or die. Mine is just death.”

A lump formed in her throat.

Her worst fears were coming true.

This was a whole other level.

Hungry eyes were going to have a whole new meaning.

She stood up, trying to compose herself so she could comfort him properly. As Dougs was about to turn around, to briefly take her mind away from the present, Soap seized her. Her body gave a small jolt backwards at the sudden movement and consequent entrapment. His arms tightened around her waist.

That’s when she heard it: quiet sobs.

MacTavish had finally cracked.

He cried into her, sniffling, voices circulating around his head telling him he was doomed, telling him he was a disgusting animal.

Even if nothing happened… he’d still kill innocents either way.

That was his diagnosis: cursed.

Her hands hovered over him. She was still taken aback.

Only, to realise, as the sobs became more intense, she should probably be kind.

Dougs hushed him, letting him weep into her uniform. Despite feeling the sensation of cold as his tears soaked through, Dougs could also feel heat.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, gulping for air, his breath trying to catch up.

Softly, she placed her hands on his shoulders, rubbing circles with her thumbs as she looked to the door, staring idly off into the distance.

***

Ghost watched Soap hurriedly leave the medical room, wiping his face. He followed the man with his eyes, only for his attention to be diverted by new movement from his periphery.

Dougs leaned out of the doorway, looking drained.

He saw her drop her shoulders as she held the frame of the entrance.

Then, she stretched her arms out, deciding to head for the barracks.

Ghost spotted red.

A light tap was felt on Dougs’ shoulder. She turned around to see Riley looming over her.

He seemed awkward though, robotic almost, as he did his best to meet her gaze.

“Uh… Dougs,” he cleared his throat, “Dougs, you’re… bleeding.”

She looked up at him quizzically. Then, she looked down at herself and realised.

“Oh… fuck.” The woman groaned, “Rhaatid!”

She shouldn’t have ignored the cramping in her legs yesterday and this morning. She was also feeling fairly bloated, but she had just chalked that up to the shitty camping food. A sharp wave hit her, pinching right at her navel. And what followed was cold.

Toilet! Toilet! Toilet, now!

She began heading straight ahead, for the latrine, only to then change direction sharply for the barracks.

Spare trousers! Get spare trousers! No, toilet! Toilet after!

With that change of plan, Ghost watched the medic stop waddling ahead to then spinning on her heel to make for the barracks. Only she stopped, stood by the wall adjacent to the entrance.

She had no shame regarding this but… well, she sort of did, and the not-so-distant chatter between Price and Graves in the room punched a pit n her stomach. She didn’t want them to see. Didn’t want them to ask questions. They probably would pay no attention but… she didn’t know for sure.

This wasn’t supposed to be complicated. Dougs was overthinking it. A twinge of guilt flicked at her chest.

Her heart began to beat a little faster.

Dougs counted herself down. This was going to be quick. In and out. Get her spare clothes and whatever sanitary product was stashed in the depths of her rucksack and run away.

3… 2…

As she was about to go in, Ghost stopped her.

“Go to the bathroom.” He said, “I’ll get your shit. What do you need?”

Well… I mean… Okay!

“Spare trousers, underwear and see if there’s like a tampon or pad somewhere. I can’t remember if there’s a pack stashed or not but… yeah.”

“Copy. Go clean yourself up, Dougs.”

She smiled.

“Affirmative.”

Dougs found herself sitting on the toilet of the ramshackle bathroom just feeling grateful that they had running water. This place was a shithole, yes, but at least it was a functioning shithole.

There are worse shitholes.

She jigged her leg up and down, filling her cheeks with air and then blowing it out as she waited. The room was cold, and she felt that on her bare skin. Across from her sat her soiled garments, glimpse of red appearing between the folds as they sat sadly slumped in a pile.

She knew this would happen, seeing as the documents did say being in the presence of someone infected would cause menstrual bleeding for whatever reason; but she thought her birth control would save her from that.

Apparently not.

It would seem that lycanthropy trumps birth control.

A small knock sounded on the door. Then, it creaked slightly open, just wide enough for Ghost to get his arm through.

“Got your things.” He stated, waving the items in the air.

“Thanks.”

She leaned forward to grab them off of him.

***

“So,” Graves sighed, looking over his cards, “you still don’t want to open those files?”

Price shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not bothering to make eye contact.

“Shepherd will find out someone’s looked at them and that’ll cause us even more trouble.”

Graves sighed, poking his cheek with his tongue.

“I think we should. Something’s not right here.”

“Something’s not been right from the beginning.” The captain replied, stroking his moustache, just above his upper lip.

With a growl, Graves chucked the playing cards onto the ground and got up, marching to the medical room.

“Graves!” Price called after him.

He began to follow the man, occasionally reaching out to try and grab his arm, only to sorely miss.

Soon enough, he had been led to the dreaded room. Graves grabbed the waterproof bag and set in on the table. Then, like the implications and possible consequences of this action would mean nothing, he pulled out the manila files and spread them on the examination bed.

“We’re fucked.” Price shook his head.

“Ah, we were fucked from the start. Besides, it’s not like I wasn’t gonna get my hands on these files anyway.”

The captain cocked his head to one side.

“What do you mean?”

“I suppose a confession is in order, Captain.”

Price’s stomach twisted itself into knots as his muscles began to tense.

“I was going to steal these files off of y’all. Now, don’t do anything rash. I can explain. Shepherd hired my Shadows and I to get them off of y’all should things go wrong. My company is to be granted some of the spoils either way, whether you survived or not. Of course, we all know what happened to the Shadow team…”

Yep, they did all know. Graves was the sole survivor, getting dragged in by Dougs and Weir, howling at the top of his lungs in agony. His team had gotten it good, and the poor man would have most likely died if he hadn’t been found.

There were no more Shadows, but there was still Graves. He’d still get his prize if he lived.

“This is all a set up?”

“What do you think?”

Price paced back and forth. He should have known. No, he did know. He knew damn fucking well. He just didn’t want to admit it because he was scared. Weir’s remarks and her subsequent death had made it clear, but Price didn’t want to pay attention to it until the truth smacked him in the face.

“Fuck it. Open those files. If I’m dying, I’m dying in the know.”

He pulled up Dougs’ wheeled stool and took a seat.

The two men scanned over the pages, making all sorts of faces as they tried to miss the images that came along with the text. Price had never been good with graphic visuals; he would much rather have those things left to his imagination.

As Graves flicked over to the next page, Price grabbed his hand.

“Wait, go back.”

Phillip did so.

“The female participants instead experienced altered menstrual cycles… which resumed to their normal cycles once women were taken out of the experiment and away from the infected.” He read aloud.

Graves looked up to meet him, eyebrows raised.

“We can figure out who it is.” Price declared, a little glee glinting in his eye.

“How?”

“Whoever was in Dougs’ company when she started bleeding.”

“Are you sure that’ll do it?”

“Worth a try, ain’t it?”

Graves shrugged, scrunching his face up a little.

“How do we even know if she’s gotten her period?”

“We can ask.”

Graves burst out laughing.

“Ask?” He chuckled, “You think you can ask that and get an answer?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

The captain looked genuinely confused.

“Please!” Graves did his best to catch his breath, “You can’t ask. We got no time to ask.”

“Graves, what are you suggesting?”

[sleepingdeath-light]

s/o who is an empath hcs ; bakugo, hawks & shinso

requested by @echosoftheocean

reader is written as being gender neutral

note : i’m not really familiar with these characters and their arcs, so i may come back to this piece in the future and rewrite things to be more accurate

Katsuki Bakugo

bakugo is, if nothing else, an incredibly hot tempered and ill mannered individual at first glance; someone ready and willing to pick any fights he can just so he can get to the top and prove himself. so being empathetic is basically a requirement to be able to get close enough to him to be in a relationship.

his temper is something that he struggles with and in the early stages of your relationship, he would have dealt with pretty much all of his problems through lashing out verbally and physically - something that left him looking incredibly intimidating and unrelentingly violent to the untrained eye

so having someone who is willing to help him work through his anger issues and that will stand by him and help him calm down and think rationally would do wonders for his mental health and his reputation

at first he was openly and obviously frustrated at how easily you seemed to read him, how you knew him and his emotions better than himself - he felt exposed, vulnerable, and he hated it for the longest time

but then you smiled at him and brought him into your arms, assuring him that you understand - that you understand him - and that he didn’t need to say anything; you were there and he wasn’t alone

that was the first time he cried in front of you and it certainly wouldn’t be the last

you’re probably the only person he feels comfortable being vulnerable and truly open around - in his mind you’ll figure it out sooner or later so why hide?

though he’ll still act very tough and aggressive around his classmates and colleagues; you’re the only one that gets to see the real him

that being said, he never really gets used to how in tune with his emotions you are and it will startle him no matter how long you’ve been together

Keigo Takami / Hawks

hawks himself has a high level of emotional intelligence and can read the moods of those around him, but he isn’t used to being read in that same way - so, needless to say, your highly empathetic nature would throw him off at first.

makes an effort to deflect any attempts at reading his emotions by further pushing his relaxed, cocky facade - becoming very obviously irate the more you’re able to see right through it

this behaviour continues for the entirety of the time he spends as your acquaintance, friend and potential partner until you finally confront him about it and tell him that he’s allowed to be himself: to be frustrated, angry, upset and happy without hiding it

and, surprisingly, he slowly starts to accept that as your relationship evolves

though these changes occur exclusively in the privacy of your shared home, as his work as a hero is dependent on the persona he developed

doesn’t mention it much, but really appreciates that he doesn’t need to tell you how he feels for you to understand as it’s something that he struggles to talk about - and, frankly, deal with in general

but as much as you read him and help him deal with his distress and difficult moments before they even hit him, he quickly learns to recognise issues with you and help you deal with them - sometimes before you even realise what’s happening - without even saying a word about it

Hitoshi Shinso

shinso has been forcefully isolated and stigmatised since his quirk first developed and he was labelled as “villainous” by default - so having a partner who is highly empathetic and can read his moods would be incredibly important to him.

having someone truly understand him, even better than he knows himself, would absolutely warm his heart and make him feel truly loved and appreciated for the first time since his quirk manifested

he trusts you above anyone else, even above his mentor, and you are the one he confides in about his concerns and anxieties and his dreams - knowing that you’d never judge him and feeling that bit more comfortable as a result

highly appreciative of the fact that you’re able to read his emotions and will accept your support and fretting even if he doesn’t recognise the cause; he just trusts that you know what you’re doing as you help him confront his feelings

still tries to keep up his stoic, distant persona around others - and even you, at first - but you get to see a very different side of him as he opens up to you about, well, everything

though you will need to bare in mind that progression with him will be slow because of how he was treated in the past; he understands that you can read him, and he does truly appreciate how much you care for him, it’s just a bit intimidating to go from being feared to being loved by someone that gets him

it’s all very new, but he loves it and he loves you

[intersex-idiots]

"well you see, MY roleplay is much more valid than that person's roleplay or this person's roleplay because *I* pretend to have a heavily stigmatised and crippling disorder that is caused by horrific trauma! can't you see how special and different i am? aren't i just so valid and totally not mocking you and everything you survived to develop this horrible dissociative disorder?"

we did NOT suffer through and survive all of our fucking trauma since a young age and having that carry on through our life just to have a motherfucking CHILD pretend to have our disorder to feel like they mean something in this pathetic world. we KNOW we did not. you fuckers anger me to no motherfucking end. i am not about to let fucking CHILDREN think they know more about my disorder than i do. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERY NON-EXISTANT GOD. JUST EDUCATE YOURSELF, GROW, MATURE, AND APOLOGISE TO EVERY SYSTEM YOU DECIDED TO HURT, HARASS, AND TRIED TO CONVINCE THAT THEY DID NOT HAVE TRAUMA WHEN YOU STILL THOUGHT ROLEPLAYERS WERE ALLOWED IN A COMMUNITY FOR TRAUMATISED PEOPLE. THEN MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, WE WILL FUCKING ACCEPT YOU.

all i ask is for one day, ONE DAY, where roleplayers don't try to make us believe we didn't experience our trauma when we have physical evidence that we did. all i ask is for one day that i can live in fucking peace without these roleplayers taking shit way too far and sending me death threats for not wanting non-traumatised people in our safe spaces.

i can barely go on this fucking app anymore because all i see is their bullshit. if it's not in asks, it's in reblogs or comments. i'll definitely be turning anon off so y'all can tell me to kill myself with y'all's whole chest since y'all wanna be fucking bold again. <3

-🧃

[delusion-of-negation]

I think what always stands out to me is how people associate an ability to remember with being there at all. I knew people who's memory lasted all of five minutes, but they were still there, every moment was just as real and experienced as it is for anyone else, forgetting it a few minutes later doesn't mean it didn't hurt at the time, in fact whatever it is can hurt more if you can't even remember or understand why it's happening. or the fact that the ability to remember and the ability to experience emotions tied to the past aren't as linked as people are eager to believe - I've seen people who have no idea what the name and/or relation to somebody is, but they know they love them, I knew a lady who forgot she could speak english but she still knew what you were saying when you spoke english she just thought you said it in german and responded in german. you don't lose yourself when you forget, I have amnesia and I'm still me, I have friends who have way more memories of us hanging out than I do but I still love them as much as if I could remember everything - it's why some dementia patients who used to play piano will insist they've never played and they don't remember how, but if you sit them in front of a piano and start talking to them they might absentmindedly start playing. we have this cultural association in some areas, between an ability to remember and an "authentic self", but it's a myth, and it is a myth that gets dangerous when you have people left alone because families can't stand to see "the shell of the person I used to love" (one of the cruelest sentences known to man, in my opinion). it's the same with anger, lashing out, fear - I was in hospital once, and a dementia patient who'd been a prisoner of war thought she was back there and thought staff were trying to sexually abuse her, and she said some hurtful things, and so the staff refused to care for her, left her literally in her own piss, because they couldn't put their feelings aside and look after a scared lady. my carer went and cleaned her up, and could've been fired for it because she wasn't supposed to go more than an arm's length away from me, but obviously I kept it a secret because she shouldn't be fired for doing the right thing. and with control over your own body, I do think that you get used to certain things - like, it's embarrassing at first when you have to have people doing certain tasks for you, but you adjust and realise that a lot of this shame was sort of socially ingrained in us, and dignity isn't actually tied to pooping easily, and lifting a pencil isn't a necessity to be happy. I mean, from experience, I still get mad at the things my body and brain can't do, but people who say "it would be better to be dead than to lose your dignity like that" don't realise that they're wrong, I think because they've only ever had short bursts of needing help and didn't get past the fear. a lot of people say it's their worst fear, and tbh sometimes it feels like every conversation about it comes after people saying how terrifying it is, but it's rightly seen by advocacy groups as the wrong framing when that happens with autism, and I think people could do with considering whether that's how they really want to frame conversation about stigmatised illnesses - although the part about being terrified of how everyone leaves you and how everyone treats you and how you can't advocate for yourself because of how sick you are is an important note and something most people don't realise is probably the scariest part, you have to suffer it alone because of how scared of it everyone is and how stigmatised it is.

I feel like nobody views dementia patients as people, it's always "hope I never get that" and "lmao I couldn't find my keys they'll be testing me for dementia if I don't pull myself together" and even worse "his dementia is too far gone he's not even in there now". it doesn't get anywhere near the attention that accepting and/or normalising other health issues does as a conversation. I don't see people even really caring how it feels for patients past getting mad when a home isn't turning people over often enough - which definitely is a problem, but doesn't even scratch the surface of the levels of dehumanisation and disrespect that dementia patients endure from family, friends, carers, society, and everywhere.

[kotokoharrow]

So, we need to talk about Mikoto.

I’m sure you’re all intelligent people who know better than to take your understanding of a complex, highly stigmatised mental health condition from a YouTube series, but as a person with DID, I still feel compelled to make a post talking about the realities of the condition.

Whenever DID is represented in media, it’s shown as something flashy and eccentric, as well as often being associated with murderers, or at least violence. This makes it difficult for those of us with DID to reach out for support; I know multiple people with DID who, upon telling their support network about their condition, were met with jokes (and sometimes serious comments) about whether they’re violent.

So, take this as DID 101. At the end of this post I will include my masterpost of DID resources, which I strongly recommend checking out if you have any interest in this condition (especially if you’re a fan of Mikoto and plan to make analyses of him). Deco*27 may have no interest in understanding the reality of DID, but you can do better.

Please note that I am overlooking a lot of nuance in this post because I want people to understand the pure basics of DID. The resources linked at the end go into far more detail, and given that many of them come from medical sources or professional advocates, are far more reliable than just some guy on tumblr.

So, what is DID?

DID stands for Dissociative Identity Disorder. It’s a condition that forms in response to repeated early childhood trauma, most often abuse from a caregiver, but other forms of interpersonal trauma can also cause it.

As children, our brains are hardwired to attach to our caregivers no matter what, because that’s how we stay alive. Our caregivers give us food and shelter, they give us protection from strangers, they give us affection and attention, all things that are necessary for healthy development. Because of this, even if a caregiver is abusive, a child is still wired to attach.

One way that a child can ‘cope’ with having an abusive caregiver is by denying the abuse. The brain dissociates (disconnects/denies/fails to integrate) from the abuse, seeing it as happening to ‘some other child’. This process is called splitting. 

The part of the child that copes with daily life becomes amnesic of the abuse, or at the very least emotionally disconnects from and downplays it, while the part of the child that copes with the abuse develops their own sense of identity based around the experiences that they cope with.

Now that the brain has learnt splitting as a coping mechanism, it can continue to split for any experience that overwhelms the person’s ability to cope, creating more dissociative parts that may or may not develop their own senses of identity.

DID is a disorder that often forms in the face of violence, but this does not mean that the dissociative parts are violent, themselves. It is common for dissociative parts to hold repressed anger, or to be based on external abusers, but this does not make them violent or abusive themselves. It is common for those with DID to experience intense internal conflict and self-directed violence, but not to express other-directed violence, outside of situations where fight/flight is triggered.

What if someone with DID did commit a crime?

DID has been used as a defence in criminal cases before. However, within the DID community, there is an acknowledgement of the fact that every part is responsible for the behaviour of one part.

Despite the way that media may like to act, DID is not ‘multiple people living in one body’. It is one person with multiple, often radically different ways of perceiving themselves. One person with a fragmented sense of self. One person who experiences amnesia.

Due to this, if a part committed a crime, the entire person with DID would be responsible for it.

Something else to keep in mind about DID is this- because a person with DID is still one person, morals don’t radically differ between parts, unless there is a trauma-based reason for it. So, if one part is willing to commit murder, outside of any external pressures, that means every part is okay with it on some level.

What’s the harm of Milgram’s portrayal of DID?

Outside of what I mentioned in the introduction to this post, many people with DID are deeply afraid of their parts when they first discover that they have this condition. It’s a disorder based around denial of intolerable experiences. Fear and avoidance are central to how the disorder forms and maintains itself.

Many people with DID feel out of control when their parts ‘front’ (take control of the body), even moreso if they experience more intense amnesia and can’t remember what their parts do, or if their parts experience overwhelming anger/pain/fear that they struggle to understand.

Many people with DID struggle to understand their parts ways of thinking, belief systems and needs. This causes internal conflict that maintains dissociation. It is one of the major hurdles to recovery.

Media portraying people with DID as violent and murderous doesn’t help. Many people with DID do not realise that their parts will have the same morals/ethics that they have. Many people with DID are afraid of what their parts may do. The normalisation of DID as a disorder that causes violence makes this worse.

Many people with DID also experience shame of their condition. Shame is a very common emotion in survivors, and it causes many people to keep their trauma a secret, even from those who could support them. Many people will keep their condition to themselves due to not wanting to be seen as violent, and not wanting to have to educate people about the realities of their experiences.

Milgram has a huge issue of using mental illness as a shock-factor, both with Mikoto and Haruka. While this isn’t intended as a callout or to tell people to stop watching Milgram (I have every intention to continue watching, after all), I do want to encourage people to be critical and understand that the way mental health conditions, symptoms and behaviours are being associated with violence and ‘creepy’ imagery is not okay.

If you would like to learn more about DID, I have a document of resources here. The document is periodically updated, and includes resources about childhood trauma, attachment trauma, other disorders and coping skills, along with resources about DID specifically.

Thank you for reading.

[thirty-five-owls]

Guide!Frank who joined the marines young and fought well, who recently returned from active duty, stationed in the Tower.

He was in the break room that day with some guys, having coffee, enjoying his time, when his superior came down to call on them “they need a guide up there for a rogue. Now.”

It wasn’t his job but he went anyway, like the good soldier he was. He was also curious because the department has been enforcing a registration system for decades, and there’s not supposed to be any rogues left who’s dangerous enough to warrant military attention.

After a short debrief, he followed the long, white corridor to its end where a lone door stood, a floor-to-ceiling white-cushioned cell with nothing but a single plastic chair bolted down, an odour-neutral room designed to maintain the perfect temperature and absorb sound. They used it to calm Sentinels who lost control of their senses and needed isolation.

When he walked in, there was a bloodied man bound to the chair in plastic cuffs, his head hung low, his existence was a shade of red so provocative against the white cell it was almost offensive to the eyes. Frank squinted.

Sentinel!Matt had been operating in New York as a vigilante under the alias “Devil of Hell’s Kitchen”. He put himself on the radar when he began investigating civilian disappearances traced back to the Tower. He knew they kept a file on him as a rogue, probably had his name too, but that day was the first time he fell captive and his helmet was taken away. He was also on the brink of a sensory overload.

He heard the guide as soon as the door was cracked open, all the information from the outside world washed over him at once: the loud, steady heartbeats and breathing of a well-trained marksman who was at least as strong, if not stronger than him, the smell of hot coffee and sugary pastry, ink, paper, perspiration, aftershave, the afternoon sun, and a brisk shower some time earlier; he can taste something metal in the air the guide brought in with him, but couldn’t easily place his nuanced movements because of the room. The frustration was fuelling his anger. He lunged forward in the chair, yanking hard on his silent restraints.

Frank closed the door behind him. “Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, huh? That’s a real cute name. Why don’t you calm down, buddy.”

“Get out. I don’t need a guide in here. Send in whoever’s in charge of you.” The man in red growled, but did not look up.

The Sentinel’s hostility almost immediately had an effect on Frank, but he handled it well. He noticed the bolts in the legs of the chair coming ever so slightly loose from the sheer force of the Sentinel’s pull. Already a bad sign indicating this might be a messy job. That, plus the condescension in his voice was really rubbing Frank the wrong way.

It’s a stigmatised career for gifted folks who join the military; some people think they deliberately signed up to become the government’s weapons of death, that they willingly gave up their rights as a free agent to be objectified and abused by an oppressive system just so they can chase the thrill of being a natural killer. There are, of course, also people who admired them and their powers, respected them for being protectors of the country, proud American patriots who fully supported the growing military budget used to train and maintain their division.

Clearly the man in red was not the latter. He sunk low on the edge of the chair, straining and bleeding, refusing to show his face, but kept tilting his head this way and that, Frank knew it was a telltale sign his auditory senses were trying to figure out echoes in the room. But the walls absorbed most of that.

“Nobody in charge of me is coming up here anytime soon, so I suggest you take a moment and relax.” Frank replied coolly and positioned himself to stand comfortably in front of the prisoner, ready to work on him.

Sentinels were generally stronger than the average person, but most were gifted in one sense, rarely two, the rare ones tended to rise to higher ranks in the military early on. But knowing which one this Sentinel had was greatly helpful.

He lowered his tone and voice to a softer breathy whisper, “listen to me, I’m not here to hurt you as long as you don’t give me a good enough reason to, you got that? ”

Frank’s calming affect seemed to have worked on him. The man in red quieted down for a moment, breathing long and shaky breathes down his chest.

After some silence, Frank heard a raspy voice, “you don’t know what they’ve got you into. You have no idea.”

Frank nodded, "is that right. What exactly do you think 'they' are up to?"

"Let me out of these and I'll tell you." The reply came so fast it made Frank chuckle.

"Just uncuff me, please. I'll tell you what you want to know. I just can't take this anymore." He said with a pained tone, yanking on his arms again.

Frank considered it. His mission was to extract information and he was confident in his ability to get it done. Besides, they were on one of the highest floors in the Tower with so many layers of restricted access a cockroach wouldn't make it to the ground. He knew there were guards outside and a surveillance feed in the ceiling corner. He knew there were people watching this feed right now on the other side. He was never instructed to uncuff the prisoner under any circumstances, but they sent in a guide alone so they'll just have to trust the process. If it took a little blood and bruises to get the job done, then so be it.

"You play by the rules, I'll take those off, alright?"

The man nodded slightly.

Frank walked up to the prisoner, fully aware of the fight that might break out between them as soon as he let him free, but still wasn't prepared for how fast the Sentinel's reflexes were. His hands were reached around their back, and the man stayed perfectly still, but as soon as he felt the slight give of the lock under pressure, before his mind had even registered it, the man in red already broke free and jumped on him. There wasn't even a millisecond more of pretense.

He cursed loudly as they both went down, adapted to the situation at hand, and immediately reached for the concealed knife under his shirt. But for some goddamned, nigh-impossible reason, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen beat him to it, as if he always knew where Frank kept it hidden.

Frank saw his face while being pinned underneath him, those glassy eyes that casted an unresponsive blank gaze off to the side were not normal. He'd never seen a blind Sentinel before.

"You listen to me, I don't care what lies your pathetic headquarter has been feeding you about fighting for justice," the Sentinel growled, the blade of the knife pressed to Frank's throat, "they cannot prevent what's coming. Tell them I'm going to hunt them down, one by one," the rage in his voice filled up and vibrated in his chest, shaking as it passed through him, "and I will make them pay."

They fought each other mercilessly on the floor of the isolation cell, every hit that Frank landed was intended to break bone or induce immobility, but the Devil had the upper hand with a weapon. Though he couldn't use his eyes, he moved with inexplicable speed and precision, something that couldn't possibly be explained by heightened hearing alone.

As he felt the familiar scorched pain of a shoulder fracture, Frank started wondering why in the hell hadn't someone interfered yet. It was good in a way, because now they know the rogue had an agenda against the Tower. He held onto this thought and doubled down.

Frank could tell the rogue's senses were overloaded, which somehow made him more dangerous because now there was an urgency to escape while he still can. He tapped into the Sentinel's rage, wanting to regain some control, and their affects blended in instantaneously. It took him by surprise.

Whoever's behind that camera watching us right now, you think they give a damn what happens to you? Frank heard the Sentinel in his head. They should've intercepted this a long time ago, but no one came. I could kill you or imprint on you right now and all they'd do is watch it happen. Why do you think that is?

It was getting hard for Frank to distinguish his own emotions from the Sentinel's, the blood loss from the fight made his head ring, and the sensations he felt from the man in red were more intense than any other Sentinel he's ever encountered. He knew he was slipping and cursed every single being on earth including his superiors for the lack of reinforcements so far.

You're fighting on the wrong side of the war, soldier. Whenever you're ready, come find me in Hell's Kitchen.

And with that, the rogue seized the opportunity, plunged Frank's own knife into the side of his leg, threw him backwards into the chair, and broke out of the door.