#This is the thing that I actually need to process in therapy and can't just lsd the anxiety away Tumblr posts

[akchually]

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[scarletcomet]

ngl besties but i am not doing so great right now. anyone else not able to function because of constant thoughts of hurting yourself and crushing depression?

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: Energy Check~ for wherever you are right now

This was completely unplanned but frankly spirit doesn't give a fuck about my plans. So if this found you, here are some messages you probably need right now-

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pile 1: Ooh.. as I was preparing to start your reading, I saw 11:11 as the Chariot card showed up for you. This. Tells me that you are pretty strongly connected to your divine path right now, which simply means that you're doing something that's keeping you in alignment, sweet pile one! Good job! Keep going down this road because you WILL stumble upon amazing experiences and people! This message is coming through quite strongly. Now, isn't that lovely? Hehe.

Here's the thing, though.. Although you're actually IN alignment with your greatest timeline and life, you seem to be completely UNAWARE of the fact! You might be going through the necessary purging emotionally and/or mentally as a result of this alignment since the "old stuff" has no more room in your new vibration anymore. So, you've probably had to go through some intense endings and/or tower moments in life lately and THIS has left you feeling really, really sad. Maybe even depressed. For some of you, if that's the case, please seek help, sweet soul. It doesn't have to be therapy but even as simple as talking to a trusted loved one, you know? Or even journaling about it could help if you're into it. It seems like you could use a new perspective on the things you're going through right now. I'm sensing that you might be feeling emotionally numb right now too, but that's because you've been doing a lot of emotional processing lately AND IT'S ALL PAYING OFF. I just need you to know that. You just can't see it right now because you're slap dead in the middle of the storm, and I'm looking at it from a bird's eye view, you know?

While you're purging old stuff, I also see you making your way through an old core belief - "I gotta work hard to be deserving of anything because I inherently don't" Or something along those lines. You may have started purging this belief as a result of life showing you that it's simply not something worth keeping alive inside you. Maybe recently, you caught yourself overworking yourself to death only to receive very little in return (in any area of your life - relationships included) and this experience helped you wake up to this unhelpful belief of yours. You're unlearning this belief as we speak. It's not easy though, but I CAN assure you, you're acing it.

If you find yourself worrying too much about anything and everything or simply feeling a general fear, just know that it's a normal reaction to having things uprooted in your life. Life, right now, is asking you to do your best to focus on what's right in front of you because if you do this, the future is guaranteed to sort itself out. I promise.

I love you so much, pile 1. I see all your hard work and am rooting for you SO hard, bro. Love and light.

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Pile 2: Seems like to me that y'all have been STUCK in a particular pattern for a while now, maybe years? For some of you folks reading? Let me spell it out for you what this pattern looks like to me - an imbalance of the mind and heart. Too much mind and too little heart. Maybe none at all.

I can't seem to tap into the root of this imbalance, maybe because it's different for each of you reading, OR maybe it's not relevant to us right now because you can simply begin to address this imbalance as you see it in your day-to-day. But I sense that you're really good at addressing things, so once you're conscious of this pattern going on subtly in the background, running your life, you can really do something about this. This pattern may show up as you struggling with feeling fear, and this is blocking you off to one very important thing fear is here to show us, and that is how to support ourselves. If we are afraid of something we desire and have a healthy relationship with fear, we go for the desire while caretaking our fear. I read a quote the other day, it said "Do that thing you love but if you find that you're scared, then go do it scared." The point I'm trying to make is, fear isn't going to go away on its own, it's you who will simply expand your ability to hold space for it AND your desires equally. When you figure out how to do this, magic will happen in your life. You'll find that your unwillingness to caretake your fear only gave you more things to be afraid of (because, hello, Law Of Attraction *lol*), BUT you'll also find that when you radically start taking responsibility for your fear(s), you'll be able to act from a wiser space and be your full badass self. You'll find that there are so many things you CAN do and so much life you CAN live. Everything you've wanted to start doing in life will start to happen almost seamlessly. It WILL surprise you big time. You're currently making your way through an important part of your healing, and that is to hold yourself in all your glory. To hold all parts of yourself, even the ones that are scared shitless. Once you've integrated this segment of your healing, SO many doors will unlock for you. Sweet soul, you have no clue of JUST HOW MANY. And this… is probably because you manifest with your heart primarily (meaning you feel things deeply and so you unknowingly tap into the frequency of what you want easily) and your fear is keeping you stuck in your head, which means you're only 40% of the full You right now, PRIOR the healing of c. You might even feel it sometimes. You might feel like you're only a shell of a person (been there myself, you're not alone in this!). Listen to that feeling. Your truth lies in there. You're meant to be the 100% you, and I see that you're already halfway there!

I love you so much, pile 2, sending you so much light and love. Hope you find the resources you need to make it through to your new life where you live in more love than fear.

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Pile 3: Man… y'all been fighting for your lives, huh? I see that you may be in the midst of a lot of divinely evoked darkness? Lol, I literally heard that - divinely evoked darkness. Maybe you're going through a dark night of the soul, perhaps? Whatever your're going through though, it seems like you've been hanging on for dear life.

Some good news for you- no matter the circumstances you're in right now (be it good, bad, or terrible), you've been doing all the work necessary to keep your head above water and have been diligently nurturing your own light, positivity, and essence. THAT'S incredible resilience, sweet pile 3, and I'm really proud of you! It's not easy to keep an open heart through bad times, and that's such a grand achievement in my eyes. UGH, BEAUTIFUL.

Your energy SCREAMS transition period vibes. You seem to be neither in your "old" timeline nor in the new one yet. You're sorta hanging in the middle right now. I see the Hanged Man in the third eye as I tell you this. Feels like you're in the void right now, and things just seem… bleh. Boring. Colorless. This is probably because you're already done with the ugly part of the process, "the divine shakeups", the loss, and the purge. Think… the bland but peaceful feeling you feel after having an intense ugly crying session, you know? Yeah, you're energetically there right now. You'll probably be here for a while longer because you've let go of MAJOR stuff, pile 3. Did you let go of people recently, maybe? Or that old bad habit, perhaps? That was the purge, so to speak. And now you're in the aftermath of it all, the uncomfortable but necessary calm.

-Side note: You might've struggled to embody your divine feminine earlier, but the timeline you're entering right now is the exact opposite of that. You might be attracted towards things that will help you nurture your own divine feminine right now. Give into it. Nurture patience, stillness, and compassion for self. It will HOPEFULLY speed up the void period if you consciously take part in it, you know?-

You're quite emotionally intelligent, and it has guided you throughout the whole process, and it also seems like it ain't your first rodeo in the process of proverbial death and rebirth. Good on you because you're doing a real good job keeping your calm through venturing into the unknown. You know what? You remind me of Elsa from Frozen, taking on the unknown like it belongs to her. You are such a queen, omg.

Yep, all that's left to do now is celebrate yourself, pile 3! Try your best to embrace this period, the void, and you'll be on your way to your next happy adventure! Love and light, sweet soul. Thanks for sharing your energy with me today.

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[coldwind-shiningstars]

Dungeon Meshi is obviously primarily about food, eating, and crucially survival through eating, but it's also focused on other aspects of survival. Sleep, rest, social ties and social exclusion. There's even extensive commentary on things like personal grooming (Marcille’s hair, Toshiro becoming depressed and no longer shaving), clean bathrooms, and other things. When it comes to disability these things are referred to as instrumental activities of daily life (IADLs), which are more complex things like shopping, housework, and cooking, which people need to do to survive, and activities of daily life (ADLs) which are the basic bare bones needs: eating, toileting, etc. Dungeon Meshi is concerned with the logistics of living and finding joy in those logistics.

This is super related to disability! Yes, Laios is autistic, this has been apparent from the beginning. But what does being autistic mean for him and the story? Mostly, it means his desires, goals, and the ways he goes about achieving them are strange, foreign, or baffling. He has different priorities than other people and the way he expresses those priorities are strange. They affect how he socializes, how he eats…

So, it absolutely makes sense that there would be a minor sideplot about activities of daily living and what it's like to be out of sync with everyone else when it comes to prioritizing things. It's Mithrun Time (he's gonna mith all over the place) and I'm so SO interested in the interplay of disability, caregiving and the logistics thereof, and intersectionality & privilege. Who needs care? How do other people feel about them needing care? How do they receive that care? And who do we think is worthy of receiving care and how does that interact with all these other factors?

Bunch of manga and extras spoilers past the cut:

“So, what's wrong with you?”

I see a lot of people talking about Mithrun's non-eye disability as a depression allegory, which I think is true, but I think it's also metaphorically/symbolically both a traumatic brain injury and a trauma response to sexual assault. The sexual assault aspect is pretty clear if you look at any of the symbolism of the actual disabling event: just look at it.

Mithrun is lying in bed and the goat comes to him, lifts him up and puts its mouth on his abdomen and lower pelvis. The eating is sexually charged, as is the particular way he struggles and protests. It's intensely violating, and things that were once desirable are lost. And the dungeon lord group therapy session involves a lot of people talking about the demons like an abusive lover; Mithrun, even though he wanted to kill the demon so badly, still says that they're gentle.

As for the brain injury, chronic TBIs can cause a wide variety of symptoms. Some immediately relevant ones are anhedonia (lack of enjoyment), executive function issues, poor interoception (trouble understanding what's going on in your body), cognitive impairment affecting ability to reason/multitask/plan/solve problems, changes in behavior and personality, depression, agitation, and restlessness. We see… basically all of these, in Mithrun, as downstream effects of the loss of desires. He can't tell when he's hungry, tired, or out of mana; he can't perform ADLs consistently even if he knows he'll die without doing them and dying without doing them will interfere with his long-term goal, he had drastic personality changes, he oscillates between impatient and totally withdrawn.

Brain injuries can also affect more complex tasks and ability to sustain lengthy periods of complex cognitive work. A common example is losing the ability to read and process longer passages; maybe you can read the words but you can't read a paragraph, or maybe you can read paragraphs but now you get a migraine after 15 minutes. Mithrun's skill loss is not related to reading but the effect is similar – he is and was extremely skilled in a particular area of magic, but also disabled in ways that specifically hinder his skill in this area – to teleport things properly you need depth perception and a sense of direction, and he lacks both of these! And while he's still an incredibly effective fighter it seems like he pretty frequently makes those sorts of mistakes.

This is treated often as a gag and it is genuinely funny but it’s also very real, to no longer be as good at the thing you were good at before you became disabled. Kui takes several throwaway gags seriously later on, not just this one. Another ~gag that's not really elaborated on is the bathroom thing, but I appreciate its inclusion anyway, since even if it's presented humorously it doesn't feel meanspirited in a way a lot of “diaper jokes” do. I think people need to talk a lot more about bathroom issues in a wide variety of disabilities, and I think it's nice that a guy I can already picture the “poor little meow meow” posts about also has this issue, you know?

Preferences vs Desire

Even referencing PTSD and TBIs it's hard to really grasp what having no desires means, and the characters don't generally ask, while Mithrun explains it in vague terms. “Desires” is a very broad term and indeed he has lost access to a wide but related variety of things. Unfortunately this lead to him often being treated as nonagentic.

Mithrun does still have preferences, even if he doesn't express them and has no desire which would drive him to seek out pleasant things and avoid unpleasant ones. He'll comment on the taste and texture of foods, for example – sure seems like he has an opinion!

People treat it like his preferences don't matter since he doesn't usually bring them up unprompted, and he's often in situations where there aren't other options.

Kabru seems best at not doing this (and, noncoincidentally, also seems to be the best at actually caring for him; the Canaries have a lot more Resources theoretically than Kabru And Mithrun Eating Monsters And Kabru's A Bad Cook, but although they are loudly distressed by the two of them disappearing it seems to have positively affected Mithrun's general health)

But, uh, acknowledgement that someone has preferences at all is a really low bar to clear and Kabru also doesn't seem to fully understand how Mithrun's brain works. Mithrun’s caregivers want him to eat when they want him to eat. They want him to rest and drink when they want him to.

He lacks the desire for a number of mundane things but also seems to lack the ability to tell when he needs them. He can't explain why he faints; is “I am out of mana” considered a desire for more mana, one that can be eaten? He can't sleep on his own; it's not only that he lacks “the desire to go to bed” but he can't do anything with his own exhaustion, even if he notices it. He comments on the unpleasant taste and texture of several meals; he may be unable to want to not eat it, but he definitely can tell when he dislikes something. But he also seems to be unable to tell when he's hungry.

Kabru will acknowledge these preferences but there's not really other food options, and Everyone Must Eat. Kabru doesn't know the details of Mithrun's condition yet but you can see the immediate frustration here and the way he offers food to him like Mithrun's a child.

Sure, he won't directly communicate preferences, so that makes it extra hard, but you can always just ask, and if he tells you he tells you.

The pathway between opinion and taking actions about it may be lost in Mithrun but the dungeon forces other people into a similar position – it forces them to eat food they don't want to eat so that they can survive or accomplish other goals. We've seen this with Marcille from the beginning. It's difficult with Mithrun because it seems like there is always going to have to be some sort of someone else overriding his autonomy – yeah, he's not hungry but he still needs to eat or he'll faint. Yeah, he's lying about whether or not he's clean but he still needs to wash or he'll die. Yeah, he needs to take a rest instead of keeping moving or he'll faint. But he's not unique in being in a situation where he has to do nonpreferred things. The difference is more that he lacks the ability to independently do anything when it comes to ADLs, preferred or not, which makes it into someone else’s choice and responsibility.

There's also a theme in Dungeon Meshi that comes up a bit of people being pushy about ADLs but from a slightly different perspective, and they're usually right. You see this in Senshi most commonly; he pushes the residents of the Golden City to actually eat even if they don't need to and can't taste it, and while he's correct in that Yaad does get enjoyment from the food even without taste he's still not quite listening to Yaad. Similarly, Kabru is correct in that he can get Mithrun to sleep without a sleeping spell, but he also ignores the way Mithrun says several times that he doesn't expect massage to work. There's a few aspects to this – wild but expected that the elves would choose the “just knock him out with a spell” route, the “easy way” Senshi always talks about when it comes to magic, instead of actually paying attention to other solutions. But also, generally, people know their bodies best, and sometimes even if you're really sure you have the trick to help them you have to listen to what they tell you.

tvtropes dot org frontslash DisabilityTropes

This is going to be a harder section just because it's so subjective; it's nearly impossible to think about the ways in which disabled people are viewed by the people around them/wider society with any degree of objectivity just because there are so many factors that go into it. But I do think Mithrun is consistently treated as relatively nonagentic and there are several ways this can manifest: being treated as a doll/pet/child, being treated as a weapon, and being a surface for people to project onto.

He's framed or treated as childlike intermittently through the manga; scattered about, just a little vibe in the way he's drawn, like the "say aah" above and Pattadol and Cithis through the teleportation scroll :

That's a middle aged man! And he's framed like a toddler getting picked up or misbehaving.

Which doesn't mean they care about him any less; his squad is really fond of him for someone who's technically like their parole officer. How dare you do this to our captain! They love him dearly; this is obvious and he comments on it! They respect him, too, as the leader and as a strong fighter. But loving someone and thinking they're a skilled fighter doesn't mean you respect their autonomy fully.

There's also an element of everyone projecting their own issues onto him; Kabru with their shared Dungeon Trauma. The canaries all suggesting wacky, midlife-crisis desires. He doesn't ever express that he minds any of this, except when they try to stop him from making particular decisions. They also don't often understand why he'd be motivated to do a particular thing, and in fact some of these projections may actually be correct! But while noodles and pottery may be good later-on goals for him, I think it's striking that a) Kabru was the closest to correctly guessing what desire Mithrun might acquire now and he was still guessing the exact opposite (suggesting a desire to not eat Falin but to help Laios, vs Mithrun's actual desire, which was to eat Falin with no thought given to the promise he made at all) and b) it's a desire that actually makes perfect sense with what we know about him, not something totally new.

And, finally, he's a weapon: people are willing to caretake him because he's good at killing things dead. If his only desire is to kill demons dead, it's easy to start seeing that as who he is. I don't think he'd argue that “trying to kill demons” takes up the majority of his life (it's his only goal and he's obsessed with it) but even if there's only one thing that matters to him he has autonomy (in the sense that he can make his own choices about what to prioritize and formulate his own plans) and personhood.

Politics and privilege – who gets to access care?

One of the things we're first presented with when it comes to Mithrun is that he is intensely capable at handling dungeons. Yeah, there's the immediately visible prosthetic eye and the navigation issues, but the Canaries are built up as being incredibly dangerous and skilled, and he's their captain; they all immediately defer to him. He's intense, he curbstomps an entire room of guards, he's efficient, he's brutal, he's strong physically and magically.

In short: yeah, he's very disabled. He's also still very useful.

At the risk of oversimplification, even within his particular disability, he's much more disabled than Marcille is (she lost something relatively simple and easy to miss, she has no catatonia-moment) but less disabled than Thistle, who seems to still have at least one desire related to the king but is still primarily catatonic. It seems like Thistle is not unusual among ex-dungeon lords, even if there's enough noncatatonic dungeon lords to form a support group later. When Milsiril finds Mithrun, she immediately intends to mercy-kill him – this seems to be a condition the elves are familiar with but consider terminal, at least to the degree Mithrun is affected, and people seem unfamiliar what it means to keep living in this state because Mithrun is unusual in that he survives at all. And he's “allowed” to survive initially because he's not as disabled as he could have been (still has a desire) and that desire is useful. They aim him at the dungeons and off he goes. It takes twenty years for him to recover enough to do it, sure, but they're elves. They can wait. He can still be useful.

Relatedly, when he loses the ability to pursue his desire he's immediately much worse off than he was previously.

The no-desire catatonia is something that can recur and the elves continue to not know how to handle it. If Kabru wasn't there to problemsolve I think he'd have just… stayed there with his increasingly distressed squad.

Speaking of his squad, there's also a fascinating power dynamic going on with just the inherent structure of the Canaries; criminals are assigned as his caregivers. There's the inherent unfairness to the criminal Canaries about them being given extra duties, this strange rich noble guy who's now their Responsibility. There's so much possibility for resentment in normal caregiving relationships, much less being forced by your jailor into caregiving someone. But there's also an element of the power the prisoner Canaries now have over him and his most basic ADLs and needs. Assigning Cithis to his care is such a can of worms! The dynamics of the situation are frankly awful for both of them; of course she resents him initially. It would be strange for her not to. When Pattadol catches her making Mithrun do embarrassing things, she instantly reminds Cithis of her lower-status – she's forced to care for this nobleman and then forcibly reminded that she's beneath him.

She's responding to having menial, low-status tasks forced on her by trying to humiliate him, and although he doesn't have the ability to care enough to stop her it's still a deliberate removal of dignity. He's the instrument with which she is punished and she punishes him in return (until it's not fun anymore and she understands him a bit more.)

Mithrun is a long-lived race, who has structural power over the shorter lived races simply because of how long they live. The dwarves and elves try to actively keep certain knowledge from other races, restricting their access to technology, and other expressions of distance. Senshi spends nearly the whole first season not listening to Chilchuck trying to explain that he's an adult and treating him like a child, and Kabru repeatedly says that the elves do the same thing (and tbh we see them doing it). There's even the fact that it took him twenty years to recover enough to join the Canaries again; a shorter-lived race might have died from old age in this time, or become too old to work in this capacity, and then wasted away without the drive to return to the dungeons. But they're elves; the other elves can afford to wait, and he's not going to age out of dungeoneering any time soon. Being an elf probably contributes to his wealth in the same way skin color contributes to wealth inequality in the real world.

Dungeon Meshi doesn't really go into race in the sense of skin color much, and Kui is writing from a different cultural standpoint than I am. While tallmen are quite accurate when it comes to skin/hair color (yes, even Kabru and his blue eyes; it's rare but possible) and cultural references, the elves, uh, absolutely are not, both in the sense of “dark skin & pale hair and eyes trope” and sense of the royals having jet black skin.

Still, I feel like race is so connected to care and caregiving in the real-world west that I would be profoundly remiss not to mention it. Skin color might not matter to elves in the racism sense, but it matters to humans and humans are the ones writing and analyzing this story. (And I fully expect as the fandom grows with anime-onlies people will like Mithrun more because he's white (has white features) than they would if he had darker skin, because fandom is also baseline racist.)

I don't think we can just not mention that Mithrun is pale-skinned and both Cithis and Kabru, his primary caregivers over the story, both have dark skin.

Racism means white people are more likely to get good medical care, the type you need to get diagnosed and prescribed caregiving. Racism means wealth distribution is uneven, favoring white people. Race affects immigrants taking on undesirable jobs like caregiving for low pay. Racism is a profound stressor which means it contributes to who becomes disabled in the first place in that it can worsen health outcomes.

Similarly to race, gender may not be very obvious when it comes to this subplot within the story but the gendered dynamics of caregiving in the real world are something I do want to touch on. There's an oft-cited statistic about how men are much more likely than women to divorce their partners when their partners are diagnosed with a serious condition; I don't like relying too much on those sorts of statistics because they can be so misleading but it does gesture at something very real, culturally. Even if men aren't supposed to be caretaken, women are supposed to be the caretakers. Certainly, it's not Mithrun's fault that he can't cook and can't do laundry and probably can't do most housework, but I do also think about all the posts passed around about “my boyfriend who won't do housework.”

Again, none of these privileges make him less disabled and less in need of and deserving of care, they're just worth talking about when we talk about caregiving in general.

It's Rotten Work, Even If It's You

People expect disabled people receiving care to be grateful, to accept anything, and to try and make it easier for the caregiver if they're able. Requiring care is an incredibly disadvantaged position, even as actually receiving it can be so tangled up in privilege. Caregiving is tremendously difficult work, it's true, but there's a particular vibe people want from disabled people – all those movies about not wanting to be seen as a burden. Never complaining. Being grateful.

And, uh, well…

Mithrun basically accepts anything his caregivers do, but he's not grateful at all! I appreciate that in a disability portrayal. He'll also lie to and ignore his caregivers, which is Annoying but is definitely an expression of autonomy even if he's probably not doing it specifically to express his autonomy. He's not going to thank you. He's not going to make it easy. He'll accept a lot of things considered “undignified,” and he's not mean or unpleasant in the sense that he's taking advantage or anything, but he's certainly not a model patient.

He's running off back into the dungeons just when you think you've finally gotten him somewhere safe.

There's always a strange tension in caregiving, I've found. It is incredibly intimate but a lot of it is done by total strangers. A number of caregiving tasks are viewed by the wider world as entitled but placing those tasks in the hands of strangers is a remarkably tough place to be in. As a disabled person, I've had to accept my bowel movements being discussed with my parents’ friends, all sorts of being physically moved places not against my will but without my permission, even my pubic hair being shaved off by a stranger (nurse) while I was unable to speak or move. When people are feeding you, making sure you use the toilet, rubbing your feet to make you sleep, helping you with hygiene – people are working so hard to help you. Are you supposed to just accept them doing whatever they want to you?

There's also a dynamic where people will say they don't mind caring for you, they're happy to do it, and then as the years go by and you continue to need care the resentment just builds up. Caregiving is hard work. It's often thankless. The goodness of people’s hearts can run dry, when it's been twenty years and you still can't bathe yourself.

Aaand I need to continue in reblogs, because I'm out of space for images. Please hold. edit: you can find part 2 here

[tealvenetianmask]

How Blitz and Stolas figure out how they feel: external vs. internal processing

I've been in therapy a ton (feeling like I'm not alone in that in this fandom), and one of the things I've learned from it is that I like to process my thoughts and feelings externally- by talking about them. It turns out not everyone is like that. I'm like Blitz in this way.

I first got on this topic when I was thinking about how Blitz flip flops in Apology Tour. When he goes to see Stolas at the beginning of the episode, he goes in with an idea he's trying out- a narrative he's committed to FOR NOW, insisting that he's there to reinstate the full moon deal with TONS of undue and shaky confidence.

Is this plan something he's actually confident in? Absolutely not. But he's going to commit to it damnit and see how it plays out. Does he believe it? I think he does in the moment. He's convinced himself anyway, and when Stolas wears him down and he understands that he's not doing himself any favors . . .

He starts processing the real shit aloud.

I don't think Blitz has ever admitted this to himself, at least not this articulately and accurately. He needs to say it aloud in order for it to be real. Oops too real.

He's SCARED because he didn't even KNOW he felt this way, but things are becoming very clear and dangerously close to the heart of the matter . . . so he pivots again back into comfortable territory (conflict).

By the end of the conversation, he arrives at a new mission, one that's sort of an equilibrium between his realizations about his honest feelings and his need to have a mission he feels confident in. He's not all confident or all honest- he's still in flux.

There are SO many more examples of Blitz realizing how he feels BY TALKING (later in Apology Tour when he's talking to Stolas, and then when he's talking to Verosika . . . but then also back in Oops, etc.), but I'm going to leave it at one for brevity here. What's important is that we NEVER see Blitz processing alone. Even in his part of the duet (more on songs in a sec), when he's technically singing to himself, he's consoling himself with a narrative rather than really processing the things that need to be processed.

Blitz needs a person to process with.

But Stolas is an internal processor. We know this already because he made the plan to give Blitz the Asmodean crystal and sat on it for literal months, procuring the crystal, ironing out what he would say, trying to initiate conversations with Blitz, but never explaining how he felt to anyone before it was time- and absolutely NEVER in a way that was half baked.

The way Stolas sings his feelings actually gives us a really clear and beautiful picture of how he processes and figures things out. I forget who said it, but someone on the Helluva creative team referenced a broadway truism that in a musical, characters sing what they can't speak. I think for Stolas it's often what he can't YET speak because he's still processing. He has full honest conversations with himself (Stolas Sings, Just Look My Way), and then when he's face to face with Blitz, he knows exactly what he wants to say. His feelings and beliefs actually progress from song to song- he expresses his awareness of a problem in Stolas Sings and gets more precise about how he feels and what he needs to do about it in Just Look My Way.

By The Full Moon, for better or worse (kind of both), Stolas knows exactly what he wants to say to Blitz and how he wants to say it.

Even when he's upset, angry, and then drunk, when Stolas speaks about his feelings, he's consistent. He's decided. He loves Blitz. He wants a real relationship. From his point of view, he doesn't care about social class, so he can't understand why Blitz is so stuck on it.

But he's missing something key (it's the social class thing- it's definitely the social class thing), and internally, he's cooking, and we see that (again) when he sings.

This is the rawest and most in flux stage of his thought process that we've seen. Because this is how he figures out what he thinks and feels- with himself, in song.

Okay- so interesting psychoanalysis- why does this matter to the story?

Well, I think that Stolas doesn't understand that when Blitz speaks in these super emotional, fraught conversations, he doesn't go in knowing what he thinks and feels. He's figuring it out on the fly. He's figuring it out BY talking, and needs to be allowed to do that. Should he do this with a therapist instead of with the person most likely to be hurt by the ideas he flies through on his way to his true feelings? For sure, but this is Blitz.

In turn, Blitz doesn't understand that when Stolas acts absolutely certain and doesn't seem to take in the things Blitz is saying, he's not talking to a brick wall. He's talking to a moveable person who, once he's alone (or singing) is going over and over everything and breaking his thoughts down and reformulating until he arrives at something new.

So . . . it might be a little much to ask these two to understand each other's different processing styles- but they're coming along in their own ways. And I'm looking forward to them understanding each other. Someday. Maybe. Fucking sit down and talk. Slowly. AGH.

[buddierecs]

jealous!eddie diaz buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

something touched me (like a knife-blade) by: kithmet "eddie self-implodes. christopher, seeking refuge, flees to buck—whose priorities amount to, in varying order: take in the kid, get eddie to talk to him, and keep the three of them afloat in the process. (oh, and tommy’s there too. he thinks.)" word count: 42k important tags: co-parenting, emotional infidelity, possessive behaviour, sexuality crisis, mutual pining, getting together, anal sex, masturbation good pretender by: likeshipsonthesea "an au where buck broke up with taylor before 5b, ravi and buck become (actually platonic) friends with benefits, and ravi, eddie, and buck all go on a journey of self-discovery that ends with them all getting what they need" word count: 85k important tags: fwb!ravi/buck, outsider pov, friends to loves, communication, pining, ptsd, mutual pining, self-worth issues, therapy, anal sex, making out everything (nothing) has changed by: bizarrestars "after eddie gets shot, buck confesses his love. from there, things get a little out of hand." word count: 48k important tags: love confessions, coming out, angst, humor i could get lost in the feelings (just say that you belong to me) by: wikiangela "buck's going on a date, eddie's so jealous he finally snaps and reveals his feelings, which leads to a passionate evening in buck's kitchen." word count: 15k important tags: first time, possessive sex, kitchen sex, blow jobs, anal sex, porn with feeling, multiple orgasms, riding driving me wild by: smilingbuckley "after a drunk night of karaoke and fun, buck wakes up hungover with DIAZ tattooed on his lower back. chimney, who was with him that drunken night, helps buck hide it from the rest of the team, but it makes them think something else going on but then Eddie finds out anyways, with a reaction better than buck could've hoped for." word count: 4.7k important tags: possessive!eddie diaz, getting together, body worship, anal sex, comeplay, friends to lovers, marriage proposal skin/heat/hair in your mouth by: fleetinghearts "eddie’s bad at camping, buck’s trying to make sure he doesn’t get hypothermia, and naked huddling for warmth is only like the third gayest thing happening in the great outdoors" word count: 8.8k important tags: camping, getting together, love confessions, non-sexual intimacy, semi-public sex, blow jobs, dry humping, praise kink 5 times eddie was jealous and 1 time he didn't have to be by: sassysquatch buck makes a new friend. they sometimes have sex. eddie hates the guy, but can't quite figure out why. word count: 14k important tags: 5+1 things, minor buck/oc, mutual pining, friends to lovers, explicit sexual content eddie, enraged and envious by: songbvrd "eddie goes through the stages of grief watching buck and tommy together and gets progressively more unhinged as his jealousy builds." word count: 23k important tags: slow burn, possessive!eddie diaz, idiots in love, panic attacks, pining, mild smut i can see you (up against the wall with me) by: champagne_for_breakfast "another cowboy hat fic inspired by ryan guzman and his appearance in everybody wants some!!" word count: 9.3k important tags: cowboy hats, riding, praise kink, idiots in love, oblivious!evan buckley drink up (you're wasted on me) by: okanus "eddie and buck hook up at the bachelor party. difficulties ensue." word count: 9.5k important tags: infidelity, flirting, sexual tension, first time, drunk sex, praise kink, possessive!eddie diaz me and my wild boy, all of this wild joy by: audreylorriane "eddie and buck love each other but don’t know how to say it, until they do." word count: 12k important tags: angst, fluff, soft!buddie, pining, idiots in love, praise kink, rimming, blow jobs, anal sex, size kink, cock slut!eddie diaz

[orange-orchard-system]

For all the "go to therapy" and "mental health matters" mantras I see on here, it doesn't seem like a lot of people know what treatment, recovery, and accomodations actually look like

Yeah, someone learning to manage their DID is probably going to report more internal communication and voluntary and purposeful switches. They're breaking down the dissociative barriers that prevented those things. It's a sign of recovery, not a sign of faking.

Yeah, someone in treatment for trauma might end up no longer having triggers that they previously told you they had. When you're learning to process and move on from your trauma, the things that remind you of that trauma may not affect you as badly as they did before. It's a sign of recovery, not a sign of faking.

Yeah, someone with schizophrenia may leave a psychiatrist's appointment still believing in the delusion they held walking in. It's hard to shake off delusions, and a psychiatrist can't "make a patient snap out of it" just because they have a medical license. It's an average experience for a disorder like this.

Yeah, someone may have specific symptoms or accommodations without having a diagnosis for a disorder commonly associated with those specific things. Disorders aren't all-or-nothing; you can have some symptoms without having enough for a diagnosis, and sometimes people just need specific accommodations and don't want, need, or can get a diagnosis for an entire disorder. It happens sometimes.

These are just a handful of examples. Don't assume that just because you know the basics of a mental health problem that you know what living with it – or being in treatment for it, or recovering from it – is like.

[writing-mlm]

maybe tim drake x male reader where tim falls back into his habit of just sort of studying people like he had batman and robin. he likes the reader but obviously tim has to analyze everything about him, his own habits paired with the suspicious nature instilled in him by batman wouldn’t let him casually take interest in somebody.

It's not stalking if we kiss

Summary: Tim can't process emotions normally and does everything wrong only... it works Pairing: Tim Drake x Male reader W.C: 4k a/n: guys I cant write Tim properly omfg I rewrote this a million times

People tend to forget that Tim is actually… kinda creepy. He is second on the stalker list, right behind Joe from You and now that he thinks about it, he might be better than Joe. For one, Joe is actually creepy. He’s a killer by choice, he’s the gross stalker. Tim is the informant stalker, considering himself more of a private investigator type of stalker. And, he’s not a stalker. He’s a detective who’s really good with technology. Everyone knows that. 

Admittedly, he’s tried to grow out of those habits in his recent years. After being confronted with learning every single member of the JLA’s schedules without any of them noticing, he realized he had an issue. He went to therapy— he slept on it and watched a couple of movies and changed. 

But man, old habits die hard. 

He doesn’t realize he's fallen back into his stalking habits for a long while, that’s how second nature they had become over the years. Some sort of natural instinct he had since birth to learn about people that were only made worse through Bruce’s training and his paranoid nature. It was the perfect concoction for someone like Tim, leading him down a near-irreversible path. 

Even now, as he’s watching the surveillance footage of you as you’re out on patrol several states away, he doesn’t realize it. His eyes flicker across the screen to find the street sign, Blecker Street, you’re seventeen blocks away from home and nearly three miles out from your patrol area. Having followed one of your old goons down to an alleyway before dipping into the restaurant they ran inside. 

It was a temporary stay, your old mentor was going to be away for some time and needed someone to watch over their city in their absence. Naturally, you accepted and set up back in your old apartment, it had never been rented out considering your mentor was the landlord and sentimental in that way. But that didn’t stop Tim from worrying. He’s seen reports from that city, and while it’s not as bad as Gotham, the city had aliens and metas. It wasn’t something Gotham had to deal with often, something you had definitely stopped being used to. 

Sipping his tea, Tim watches as you roll your neck and then your shoulder as you exit the restaurant with the goon in tow, it only tells him one simple fact; you’re tired. Probably another ten or so minutes before you called it a day and went back home. He grins, he prefers it when you’re home. Well, it’s not actually home, he thinks he should call it your place for the week instead. Your home is in Gotham now, it has been for several years now. He knows you've been neighbors for quite some time now. 

Sure enough, after ten minutes you’ve called it a night and head back to your apartment. Once he gets a visual of you entering your apartment safely, he closes out the footage tabs on his laptop and goes to bed. It’s nearly eight in the morning in Gotham and he’s been up for nearly two days. His old— according to Jason— body isn’t used to staying up for four days straight anymore. 

It sucks ass. 

As he settles into bed, he just has to double-check that you’re okay. He flicks through the cameras he’s hacked into, seeing that you’ve entered the apartment and from the home security your neighbors have, he hears the door lock four times. That’s the lock, the deadbolt, and two additional locks and it settles him enough that he’s pulled into a slumber by the fact that you made it home safely. 

—

It’s small things, at least that’s what everyone tells him. The small things matter and he wholeheartedly agrees, more often than not in crimes the smallest details could be the largest but he doesn’t know how that would apply to you. Why whenever he’d mention you to Dick or even Alfred, they’d tell him that. As if it was some major deciding factor in his friendship with you.  

Ever the genius, he doesn’t connect it when he remembers the last time he was in your boat you’d mentioned how you hated the fact that people could look inside. 

So, naturally, when he finds a one-way glass cover online, he just has to buy it for you. Never mind the fact that he installs it while you’re still out of the city and without getting any sort of permission from you. But he has a key for a reason. You clearly trust him. He doesn’t see why it would be a big deal for you. Maybe for others, but you’re different. You’re… well, you. 

He installs it and has Bernard test it out from the outside and it works. Not that he doubted his work would ever fail. He checks for himself and he’s pleasantly surprised that someone would only be able to look inside if they got within an inch of the window. And he thoroughly doubts anyone could even get that close to begin with. 

While he’s there, cleaning up the mess he didn’t mean to make, he notices that the fruits on your counter are going bad. It would be bad if you returned to a house of moldy food, so he throws it out and cleans the bowl before Tim decides he needs to make sure there’s nothing else wrong on the boat. 

It’s only nice. 

He ends up with a trash bag filled with nearly rotten fruit, an expired milk jug that only had one bowl of cereal left, some cleaning wipes, and a gross-smelling sponge. He knows you don’t live in filth, you hate dust and mold, so he figures the sponge had accidentally retained some nasty liquid that only got worse with your departure and subsequent lack of attention. 

Tim, knowing you well enough, goes back out to replace the sponge but he rationalizes that if he’s buying a sponge he might as well restock your home. It feels weird going to the store to pick up just one thing. He takes a list of everything you’re running low on or out of entirely and sets out for the second time that day. Never mind the fact that he had agreed to drinks with Bernard who was now forced to tag along if he even wanted to get a taste of drinks later that night.

He returns to the boat with Bernard deciding to wait outside, something about not missing another planned event, and puts everything into their rightful place. He knows where everything goes, the meticulous spots that you never change whenever you deep clean.

Should he deep clean for you?

“Good God! Let’s go!” Bernard yells after Tim has spent a whole ten minutes debating if he should deep clean the entire boat. 

“It’s not like you’re coming home with me,” He huffs, exiting the boat. Bernard raises an eyebrow and Tim raises his back. “You always go off when we get drinks— I’m just the wingman,”

“Yeah, a pretty shit one.” Bernard scoffs. 

—

“Hey,” He answers his phone without looking up from his current case. It doesn’t have his attention, it hasn’t since you left, but he needs to get at least a little work done. Even if he’s still riding out the splitting headache from yesterday. “How’s city-sitting?” He glances at the phone, making sure it was on speaker. 

“Calm,” You answer, crawling out onto the fire escape of your old apartment. “Better than Gotham— my place doesn’t move with the wind anymore, either.” You chuckle, now settled onto one of the old metal stairs. 

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of staying,” He frowns, taking the phone off of the speaker and pressing it to his ear. Now that he thinks about it, he wouldn’t mind moving to your city. It’s nice. 

“Nah,” Your face scrunches as you say it. “It’s nice, but it’s too retirement home for me. I’m not ready to give up having a constant stock of bottled water and up-to-date gas masks.” You joke. 

“That’s good,” He stops himself from sighing. “My rent would’ve gone up.” He jokes, flipping through the pages of his files. 

“You’re rich,” You scoff, it’s playful. There’s no harm in it. “It’s crazy we’re paying rent to live on fucking water, though.” You add, leaning back on the stairs.

“Eh,” He shrugs, grabbing a pen and flipping it between his fingers. He’s sure somewhere in the galaxy someone is paying rent to live on air. “Capitalism will always be crazy.”

“Oh, by the way, the supermarket had a sale on those ice creams you like. I got you some,” He admits while putting the phone back on speaker. 

“Bitch,” You draw out. Tim hears your smile and softly smiles, now taking apart his pen. “I love you, dude. Oh my god, I’m gonna raw dog them once I get back.” You all but moan.

“…sometimes I wish you thought before you spoke,” He cringes, staring at his phone. Never mind the way hearing you say that made him feel things.

“Sorry!” You laugh. “But, thanks. How much do I—“

“I’m rich,” He reminds you, putting the pen back together. His phone beeps midway putting the ink back into the metal casing and he glances at his phone. It’s an alert that your mentor was spotted back in the city. He smiles at the alert, a part of his nerves calming immediately. 

Good, you’ll be back in two days. 

“I gotta go,” He lies knowing your mentor will be back within the next two minutes. 

“Ah, okay. Keep me updated about that case, I just know it’s that Elvis impersonator!” Standing up, you stretch and he nearly hears the pop of your joints. 

“It’s not, but okay.” 

He does very little in the window between then and your return, he’s mostly counting the hours and patrolling. It’s the usual for patrol, albeit a little boring without your chatter in his ear. He’s happy to report he didn’t get any major injuries in that time frame, though. 

When you finally return to Gotham, Tim waits for you on the deck of the boat. He’s pretending to hardly care, acting caught up in some footage he’s reviewing to notice you walking up to the docks. 

“Missed me?” You grin, stepping into the boat with ease. He remembers when you’d been so nervous to get on them before, fearing you’d fall into the nasty water below. 

He looks up, a grin across his face and eyes taking you in. You’ve tanned in your absence, although he supposed Gotham doesn’t get nearly as much sun as Florida does. 

“Hardly noticed you were gone,” He teases and closes his laptop. Rolling your eyes, you invite him inside. He takes the invitation with ease, slipping inside your boat as you scan around. 

“You cleaned?” You ask, the smell of his favorite cleaning products still lingering in the air. “Don’t tell me that the Tim Drake had a party in my boat house!” You gasp, looking at him. 

“Hardly,” He nudges you aside so he can sit on the couch bench. “You had some food going bad so I figured I might as well clean up.” He explains.

“Thanks, baby girl,” You draw out the girl, a southern twang coming through. Rolling his eyes, he watches as you kick your shoes off and toss your duffle bag into your bedroom before joining him on the couch. “How was the case?” Lugging your legs up to the spare room around you, you lay your head on his shoulder while he opens his laptop again and huffs. Not good, then. 

“It’s the Elvis guy,” You quietly sing as he’s watching the footage again; that alone answers your question. The case isn’t even close to being finished. Yikes. 

“It’s not him.” He insists, mindlessly scrolling through the stolen footage. “I’m starting to lean towards the woman I interviewed first, but I’m sure I’ll solve it before tomorrow.” As he speaks he’s biting back a yawn. 

“Wanna take a nap, clear your head and shit?” You ask as you stand up. It was a long drive from Florida to Gotham and you were honestly beat. Probably another hour or so before your body took over and you knocked out. 

“Of course,” He grins and you nod, taking a quick shower. 

Naps with Tim aren’t anything new. He falls asleep often (you think there’s something medically wrong going on but what do you know) and you’re not going to leave the perfect opportunity to get a little sleep slip right past you. So, he’s gotten accustomed to dropping on your shoulder and sleeping; which naturally progressed into the two of you napping on couches or beds together. But only if you were seriously beat. 

Joining Tim on your bed you find that he’s still awake but slowly falling asleep. Waiting up for you, his eyes peer towards the door as you enter and he lifts the sheets up for you. Joining him, you lay on your stomach, letting your body relax as he sleeps on his side, his back facing you. 

Rolling onto your back, you let out a small sigh and turn your head to look at him. 

“Stop staring,” He whispers, turning so now he’s facing you. With hardly open eyes, he stares at you, waiting for you to look away from him. Smiling, you make it a point to look away and turn away from him, raising the covers to your chin and trying to dig yourself deeper into the plush bed. Now he’s staring at you, almost pulled in towards you. 

Tim knows he likes you. He thinks he’s laying his hints down well enough, he thinks he’s being romantic with his actions. He’s so sure you know that you’re just waiting for the right moment to ask him. 

You aren’t. 

Because you don’t know. 

You’re not oblivious by any means, you know when someone likes you. But with Tim, that’s just how he’s always been. You’ve known him as the kid who found out Batman because he was an amazing detective, the guy you’d go to if you wanted to find something or someone. He always had those tendencies, so it didn’t make you bat an eye when you became his latest target. 

It was like his acts of service and who are you to question it? 

That’s not to say you don’t like him back. 

No, it’s not weird that you’re sharing the same bed, chest to back. Yes, there’s plenty of space around the two of you, but what’s the harm in being close? 

The harm is that Tim isn’t focusing on falling asleep. 

You’re sound asleep, blissfully unaware of his qualms but Tim won’t keep his eyes off of you. His eyes trace the strands in your hair, settle on how you’ve accidentally shifted the cover down to your stomach with how much you kick. How you hardly dried off from the shower, favoring the peaceful sleep you knew was awaiting you instead of enjoying the privacy of your bathroom. 

His eyes follow and trace your body again and he doesn’t do it with any intentions other than curious ones. 

He doesn’t know where that shirt is from, he’s helped with your laundry before and he’s never seen that shirt but it’s faded enough that he knows it’s old. The collar is stretched out and the tag is sticking out, the words all but faded. It’s old and well-loved. 

It’s probably one of the clothes you left behind in your old apartment. 

Sighing, he closes his eyes and flips to his back, trying his best to fall asleep. It’s normally not an issue for him, he can fall asleep and wake up on command most days but today is different for some reason. Maybe he’s missed you so badly that his body won’t let him sleep until it’s felt he’s had enough time spent with you to make up for the absence. 

“Can’t sleep?” You ask after he turns again, this time back to his original position. 

“Sorry,” He mutters the apology, doing his best to seem as though he was falling asleep. He flips onto his back to look at you, a tired gaze clouding your eyes. 

“It’s okay, I was hardly asleep.” You shrug and then make a face akin to a mischievous grin. “Wanna cuddle?” Looking at you, he tries to figure out if you’re joking or not. “But only if I’m a big spoon.” You add. 

“That works,” He nods and turns his back to you, awkwardly shuffling back as you shuffle forward. Humming, you wrap your left arm around him and settle your head on top of his, with your right arm acting as another pillow for his head. His hair smells like your favorite scent and you’re surprised you hadn’t realized sooner. But it is a little faint. 

“This good?” You mutter. 

“Mhmm,” He hums and you hum back, letting your eyes close again. 

—

Tim watches you as you work through the cameras; your day job is a normal, boring receptionist job at the hospital. You’re talking to a man while Tim is in the Batcave, his feet propped up on the desk and eyes strained to not blink. He’s thumbing through different angles and misusing Bruce’s tech to get information from everyone you talk to. All their records pop up to the screen on the left and he skims through them all. 

No one is dangerous so far, aside from someone who was recently treated for lice. It makes his scalp itch when he thinks about it for too long. 

“You should get a job,” Damian grunts from behind him. “This is creepy, even for you, Drake.” Tim waves him off, he’s not being weird. He’s just making sure you’re safe, that’s it. He also doesn’t care what the boy cleaning bloody swords has to say about his habits.

“I do have a job,” He mutters, switching the camera again. It’s time for your break and you’ll probably call soon. “I’m at Wayne Enterprises, running a team for the IT department.” The right screen switches to his work account where he’s running a code to fix his team's code. He’ll double-check it once he’s home. 

He watches as you fish your phone out and he prepares for the call but his phone remains uncalled. The screen is black and you’re clearly in the middle of a call, he squints and decides to check who you’re calling. It could be debt collectors or scammers, he’s just looking out for you. 

The number quickly runs through his database and he sighs, it’s fucking Bart. 

“-m, he won’t say no to you.” Bart laughs and Tim watches as you shake your head, leaning against the wall of the break room. 

“When you texted that it was an emergency, I assumed it was, you know, an emergency.” Oh, that makes more sense. Tim settled into his seat, you hadn’t preferred calling Bart over him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I think my fridge breaking is an emergency!” Bart shouts. “Please— ask Tim to buy me a new one! One with a screen and a double fridge. Please!”

“No-“ Bart groans loudly into the phone. “You’re not helping your case right now.” You chide.

“Frick you, man.” Bart hangs up and you stare at your screen before moving to call Tim. He grins, exiting out of your phone, and stares at his phone. It rings and he waits three whole seconds before picking up. 

“Drake is reaching new levels of creeper,” Damian tells Bruce as the older man walks into the Batcave. Tim pays no mind, walking away from the computer for privacy. “There are laws against these sorts of things.”

“Hey,” He ducks under Dick swinging around on a bar before messing with memorabilia on the shelves. “I was starting to think you forgot about me.” 

“You? Never,” 

—

You’re upset. Tim doesn’t know why but he knows you are. All of the lights are on in the boat and he can hear the bass in whatever music you’re playing. Had it been any louder it might’ve begun to rattle the windows. 

He knocks on the door for two minutes straight before he unlocks the door himself. You don’t notice, which is an issue in itself, but to your credit, you notice when he steps further inside. 

“What happened?” He carefully asks, the music lowering with several clicks from the remote. You shrug, not the worst sign of your mood, and shift over to invite him inside. “Work?” Nodding, he frowns. Of course, it would be the one day he couldn’t watch over the cameras that something would happen. 

“I got written up because I didn’t let this group of teenagers spit at me.” You explain. “You’d think working at a hospital they’d understand how nasty spit is. But apparently, they’re doctors, kids so it’s whatever.” Fiddling with your laptop, he catches the Job Finders tab hidden in a mess of random tabs. Good, he’s always hated that job for you. 

“Was it that manager with the yellow hair? Linny?” 

“It always is!” You exclaim, tossing the empty soda can into the trash can. “One more write-up and I’ll go on probation again.”

“You could come and work at Wayne Enterprises.” He offers, eyes rising slowly from the laptop to you... “I’m pretty sure I have an opening as a receptionist. Or other jobs… of course. In case you wanted a change of jobs.” You look at him, eyebrows raise and he offers a smile. 

“It is closer,” You trail off. 

“Benefits are great, too.” He grins. “And I’m not just talking about seeing me every day.” Pushing his arm, he laughs and closes your laptop. “I’m serious! You’ll get paid more, no one would yell at you because we never get anyone wanting to see us, and there’s sick time.”

“Okay, I’ll apply,” You give in and he cheers, holding you with one arm before shaking you. Laughing, you cover your mouth and push away from him. “But next week, I’m busy this week. You’ll put in a good word for me, right?”

“Of course, what else would I use my position of power for?”

“Let me shower and we can… watch a movie?” You ask and he nods, watching you leave. Once the shower turns on he fumbles with his phone. 

“B, can you give me a receptionist?… No, I know there’s no need but I kinda told (Y/n)—… Okay, and? Like you haven’t lied to anyone!… Please, I’m sorry. Just can you make that a job?… Oh, thank god!” 

—

A week later, Tim helps you send in a resume. Of course, since the official announcement of a new position, there have been dozens of applications. All of which Tim is in charge of reviewing. Not that you would know. 

You’re relieved when you get the interview— put in your two weeks when you’re told you’ve made it to the final interview stage— and sit with Tim while you’re waiting to hear if you got the job. 

Your phone rings as you’re pacing around the boat, second-guessing putting in your two weeks. Not really, though, because Linny had given you another write-up for clocking back in from lunch a minute late. You have Tim answer it for you and he puts it on speaker, watching as you hear the news you’ve gotten the job. 

“Okay, thank you so much!” Ending the call, you stare at Tim slack-jawed. “Tim, I could kiss you!” He stares at you for a moment before he shrugs. 

“Why don’t you?” He asks and you blink before licking your lips. His eyes follow before he does the same. “Not that you have to, because you got the job. I wouldn’t expect anything just because I put in a good word for you.”

“Of course,” You nod. “But is it weird that I still want to?”

“No,” He shakes his head, stepping closer. 

“Cool,” Tentatively, you cup his face and lean in. He meets you, eyes immediately closing as you kiss. His hands find yours, moving it down to his waist. He holds you there, relishing this feeling.

[paper-mario-wiki]

hey, can I ask you for some advice? sorry if this is uncalled for or you just can't answer this, I understand if so

how did you work up the courage to actually get to HRT so fast? I've found out I was a trans woman around when I was 15 and im about to have my 23rd birthday, and due to my financial/working/academic/housing (I live w my fairly conservative parents) situation it does not look like it's in the cards for me any time soon. but also I feel like I should just try to find a way and try to start out ASAP, for the sake of my own happiness. but also im afraid of whatll happen if things go Topsy turvy and I need housing from a family that thinks I'm a freak. how did you do it? again, apologies if this ask feels unwarranted or to big to ask to "Funny lady play tf2 dot blog", but I'm fine if this doesn't see an answer

First of all, I don't have insurance, so keep in mind that I did it out of pocket (note: I am broke).

I used Zocdoc (America only, sorry) to find a hormone therapy consultation, went to that appointment, and they referred me to an endocrinologist. After I got some blood tests done, I got prescribed a 30 day supply of sublingual Estradiol for about $16, again, without insurance. Now, this is of course in Biden's Seattle so it might not be as easy where you are. But at least for me, the process from booking the first appointment, all the way to taking the first pill was about half a month, because I got lucky finding a doctor. During covid, according to my endocrinologist, there was a HUGE explosion of people wanting to medically transition, so a very common thing I've heard is that a lot of doctors are booked out for months. I was lucky enough to get this appointment on Sep 1st, because the next person available in my area wouldnt have gotten me in until November.

Critically, here's my main piece of advice: You can't start until you take the first real action towards accomplishing it outside of your head. You can think, and plan, and crystalize how great it would be if it happened, but you have to actually make the first step and google "HRT doctors in my area", and schedule an appointment. To do it, you must first do it. This goes for many things in life. Simply starting the processes instead of keeping them in my head had me accomplishing many things I never thought I actually would, like starting HRT, going to university in Japan, and moving to Seattle.

Many people like me, including maybe you, are really good at getting in your own head and thinking of every possible way something could go wrong, or could be denied to you. And you get so tied up in the reasoning that you forget about the Doing. To the best of your ability, try to stop thinking, and just start doing. Anything. Choose to do something that you have wanted to for a while. Just one thing. Doesn't have to be buying a plane ticket to France, or confessing a huge secret, maybe start with that thought you had the other day of "ya know I bet pottery on those big goofy wheels is fun" and google 'pottery wheels near me' and see where it takes you. It's easier than you'd think to try. And who knows, at the end of this process maybe you'll have a beautiful vase. Or, even better, a vase with a personality, flaws, and a new hobby that you're excited to get better at.

[erinwantstowrite]

Hi!!!! I Love love love your fic, and I have a question! An inquiry if you must lol. I was reading the tags again, and I noticed the skip Westcott tag. Are you going to approach the topic? Like, other than Peter suffering that trauma, when he eventually opens up to the bat family, will he talk about it?? Will dick talk about his own experience with Tarantula? I'm so excited to see your take since you put some hints that skip was maybe his caretaker at some point? Like foster dad or maybe I'm genuinely just tripping and mixing with other fics.

ALSO incredibly excited to see what happened to him with the experiments!!! It's extremely vague but im so needing that angst!!!! I really want to see more of Peter's life before coming to Gotham, before even meeting Tony!

hiii!! ty for the love!! :)

i spent ages looking for an ask i got a while ago about this topic but i can't find it for some reason? so if anyone is able to find it for me, i'd like to link it to this post and i'd appreciate the help!!

EDIT: perpetuallypanicky found the post!

(warning for under the tag: talking about Skip Westcott and Tarantula, which covers the topic of SA. please take care of yourself)

Peter will eventually talk about Skip Westcott. I can't say how much he says because I haven't actually written the conversation yet, but at the moment, it's more alluded to that it is talked about. It's a conversation for way later in another part of the series I have planned for LoF, which actually has an entire plotline about Peter's past and how it connects to his future. But he will open up and talk about it at some point. I think in the road trip arc (chapter 15 I think?) I have it planned for Peter to talk about Skip in some context with Dick (mainly, he tells Dick the most he's ever told anyone about the day he was bit by the spider), but not fully.

(And if that changes, it will 100% be warned in the beginning with the other trigger warnings I put in beginning chapter notes.)

That's mostly because Peter still hasn't processed that yet. He hasn't even told his therapist (I briefly mentioned a few times in Peter's POV's that he has gone to therapy, but I should probably make sure it's known that he doesn't go so often that he's gotten through the biggest parts of his past).

As for Tarantula... I talked about this in the Lost Post (this thing disappeared???) so I should probably mention it again. But Tarantula did NOT happen in this au.

There's a huge reason for it, and that's because I hate Devin Grayson, the writer who put that shit in there. I don't want her attached to LoF in any form, even if I'm writing to bash it.

That's not saying that Dick isn't still a survivor of SA. He's still going to have that be a part of his past as well, with some of the other instances. (There's another instance with Catwoman that's just... no.) So I'm not erasing that part of his history. I just hate Devin Grayson.

Which means that when Dick does find out (and he will), there's gonna be a big reaction. For the most part, when it comes to What Happened, I won't be going into details, nor flashbacks, stuff like that. It'll be about the impact of those times, and how Peter and Dick are recovering, though they do talk about it.

Also, Skip was Peter's last foster parent before Tony, you're right. He's probably just a little older than Dick, I'd say, around mid thirties? He was responsible for Peter for a little while but Peter ended up running away that day he got bit, and Skip hasn't fostered since.

And as for the experiments: I'm excited to write about it more. Peter and Dick also talk about this, and in some more detail than the Westcott talk. It's about time that Dick learned how Tony got Peter's complete trust,,,, a little sneak peak into that,,,, :)

There's actually so much about Peter's backstory that I sometimes wonder if there's things that I wouldn't be able to get to in LoF... It just means that I've been considering writing a prequel one day

[fridgrave2-0]

Do you think Calhoun and Felix are endgame or Felix and Turbo? For example, if there was any kind of possibility Turbo could come back, would they get back together because of unresolved feelings or would or be an aggressive side eye situation? lol

if we take a situation where turbo is mostly forgiven by others and goes through his therapy arc, then actually think of poly

turbo would hate the idea of being around felix 'cause he still has to process the whole "he turned me into a boogeyman" thing, so he always reminds himself that he shouldn't be jealous bc of calhoun, he doesn't want this fixing piece of shit anymore (he does, but he lived with this anger on felix for 25 years so he can't just let go). turbo actually tries to interact with calhoun when felix isn't around and very soon he understands that she's actually very cool. he's been through some shit between roadblasters and sugar rush period, still feels a lot of regret and pain about turbo twins and can relate to calhoun's loss more than anyone else in the group. and, well, the whole cybug thing also adds to it. as much candybug felt excited about becoming this mutant, it was a lot from the bug perspective, and when turbo got the full control over his mind and body the terror did hit him like a bus. tamora was able to give him the understanding of cybugs, and he shared how he felt when he was eaten. "it wasn't painful or anything, at least i don't remember the pain. but i didn't feel like myself anymore, like i was under players control again, and any attempt of taking the control back just felt so wrong." it was something tamora needed, many years she lived with doubt. did her fiance even had a chance of being the man she loved after being eaten, or it would just be a monster with a familiar face. now this burden fell off her shoulders. she wasn't the one who killed him, the cybug was

turbo saw a lot of himself in calhoun. this need to keep the front all the time, to stay in control, to hide most of the emotions and do not look weak. and just like with him, she began to open up because of felix. turbo wanted to warn her, say that he already got burned by felix's light, got too close and paid for it. but keeping the distance with fix-it actually helped turbo see the whole picture, and felix seemed different now. and it shouldn't be surprising, people can change in 15 years of which he didn't see felix. maybe it was calhoun's job, or an experience of almost being unplugged, but fix-it looked almost sad everytime turbo was coming up with an excuse to avoid him. turbo learned his lesson. why did he felt so bad seeing an unspoken remorse in felix's eyes?

tamora was the one, who made them talk after too much time of walking around and playing hide and seek. in last months turbo taught himself to apologize and be genuine about it, and he was ready to do it, but with felix everything goes wrong, as always. this was exactly what fix-it wanted, it has always been like this. when turbo apologized, that was making felix in the right, no matter what was the reason. he knew felix saw the world in black in white, and that means always there's the one who's right, and the one who's wrong. and my any means turbo never was a perfect or even a decent person before, and he doesn't think so of himself now just because he realized his bad actions and said sorry couple of hundreds times. being eaten by a bug and burn in lava makes you reconsider a lot of things. but he knew he wasn't the only one who was wrong, and the idea hearing it again from felix was the worst. so turbo bit his tongue and kept his apologies

...only to hear felix saying "i'm sorry" for the first time in 30 long years. turbo didn't think it was possible, but here he was, sitting in niceland with silent but proud looking calhoun by his side while felix was pouring out his soul. apologies mixed up with tears - turbo knew that felix always cries when he gets too emotional - and felix just talked and talked for ten minutes straight, not seeing how the tension was leaving turbo's body. he relaxed, listening to felix not with a sense of triumph, but with a bit of fun. couple of times he turned to look at tamora only to see her sharing this look with him, and suddenly everything just became so simple and trivial that turbo made felix stop talking by pulling him into a hug. he wished for his apologies for 30 years, and now when he got them he didn't want to listen to it. because what was the point? turbo got the point in first two minutes, he knew felix was feeling sorry, and to list all their mistakes and bad choices would take too much of the time they had already lost

"i got the jist, big idiot, you didn't have to write a whole essay about how sorry you are", turbo said with a grin and heard felix chuckle. then he sighed and hid his face in felix's shoulder, still uncomfortable with being so open. "but thanks... i'm sorry too, y'know?"

turbo felt how felix relaxed in his arms

"yeah, i know, little idiot", felix replied, and for the first time in decades turbo felt like home. while he was keeping his face in felix's shoulder and breathing the familiar smell of pie and brick dust, felix looked at his wife, who seemed unusually soft, and uttered without a sound small "thank you". after all, without her they wouldn't ever try

[morehousebites]

Quotes as House MD

Random shit my friends have said as House MD

for contex, I'm in training to get my Medical Assistant certification and most of my friends are also in/going into the medical field

House:

My mysteries are falling out

Can't a mortal want for death?

That's assault. Don't make me elevate it to battery

No no, don't be embarrassed, you all did bad

I'm going to Hell AND I have to pay with quarters? This is the worst day ever!

It's only like the fourth gayest sport. Behind football, chess, and competitive pole dancing

Either kill yourself or get over it

Don't touch these without gloves, they will irritate your tits

Well y'know, some people come out of the closet, [Chase] goes into the closet

I only let my [fellows] teethe on them occasionally. They're mostly slobber-free

Am I not writing right now? With my words? Like a poet?

You're a sick degenerate fuck! I like you

OSHA is for pussies

I can hurt you and then it will have to be my fault

I'm American I'm entitled to piss where I want

Happy erection day. Your penis hard?

I LOVE bullying children

Sorry ladies, this cock is all mine

It's not abuse if they're living. That's why you kill them first

Chase:

Being lesbian is masochist (referring to Thirteen)

As the youth are fond of saying these days: dope, sick nasty.

I'm a cunt not a whore

He's fat, he needs a vasectomy

She's 14, her uterus is gonna wither up

My dad has a PhD in Jesus

I don't even have a thought process

Ow, don't hit me, you're ugly

The part I'm confused on.... Is all of it?

Victim blaming, it's the right thing to do

Ketchup is such a good moisturizer

Aw man that sucked ass, I guess I'll just die hairy

No sin here, move along

Cameron:

I'm not a lesbian, stay away from me

Numbers, organs, same thing. What am I, a doctor? A medical student?

Not gonna lie I kinda like heroin

Them's the house rules, and I'm the coolest bitch

Wow she's pretty! Oh she's dying

Do you not want to smoke weed on the bus to the hospital?

Not even in a sexual way just vulvas are dope

Shawty is a state of mind

Honey no one wants your organs

Alright I'm gonna go finish my work and disappoint [House]

They can't know I'm a freak YET

Supportive parents? In this economy?

I can't cry cause the makeup's too slay

Whoever said laughter is the best medicine was a man

Gravity is a bitch sometimes

Pleasure myself, weep, and repeat

If I had a dollar for every time someone has told me that, I could actually afford therapy

This is pirated, by the way

I've got my own knives: they're called fingers and I swear to god if he talks to me again they are going in his eyes

Foreman:

I'm no one's babygirl, I'm someone's baby MAN

I can ethically own him in the free market space of debate

You think you have rights here? This is [the hospital]

You're taking a speed bump at 5 miles an hour, I'm gonna actually enjoy my life

There is no opinions on the gays

You spilled spaghetti on the church?! (directed at Chase)

That's not a hehe moment

Do any of you... Hear in the ears?

Infidelity ain't lookin so good right now

I'd be full of shit if I told you I knew the answer all the time

I sympathize with you but you're making funny noises

THE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED THE WHOLE TIME AND I SLITHERED THROUGH THE WINDOW?!

Don't antagonize drunk old men who hate you

[scrubbinn]

Slime HRT Day 1: First Pages

I was told I should write down my experiences in this journal. I'm only really doing this because I was told I didn't have to share my writings with anyone except for emergencies, whatever that means. Today is the first day of my new life, and becoming something not human anymore.

I've seen a lot of social media about species HRT. I think it’s supposed to be “Human Removal Therapy”. There’s a lot of people online bashing it, and I'm sure someone is going to try and ban it eventually, but for right now it's pretty unrestricted. To be honest, I am fascinated by it. Becoming something inhuman seemed so, I don't know, cool I guess, but it felt distant, like it would never happen to me, or I'd be labeled a freak by my friends. It was only until my girlfriend brought it up in a passing conversation that I gained the courage to admit I was curious about it. She said I should go for it. The amount of joy I felt then and there was like a 20 ton weight had just exploded out of my chest, but in a good way! We spent the rest of the night talking about treatments and articles, I never felt so happy except then and there, to be seen like that.

My legs were shaking when I met with that doctor. I was told it was normal to be nervous, but it really felt like I was going to just have a breakdown the entire time we talked. There was a lot of psychological exams and way, WAY too much paperwork that basically said I was sure I would be happy and cool with going through with this process. The doctor was patient at least, though he was rude with how little he tried to hide the boredom of his job. Besides that, there was something about him that just made him feel like this was the last thing he wanted to do, the kind of man who’s a total pushover. We eventually got to the question I was dreading “what was I here for, what am I looking to be?” My voice just suddenly stop working right there. It's so funny how I saw an actual dragon on my way here and somehow my request seemed so much more ridiculous. That stupid doctor kept prying me to just tell him until my frustration surpassed my anxiety, and I was able to blurt out that I wanted to be a slime.

I don't know when or why, but I've always liked the idea of slimes. It's their fluidity I think. Being able to morph myself the way I want whenever I want. I mean, how can I trust I'll be happy with my body shape everyday when I can't even pick a favorite color. I spent so much time writing out my own ideas of how their biology worked, or creating a bunch of slime girls for stories I never finished writing. It took me a while to realize I wanted to be just like them, like how it took me a while to realize I wanted to be a girl too.

I thought I'd get laughed out of his office, I mean I've seen the photos and stories of people on slime HRT but it just felt different, like I was going one step too far, I was probably just super anxious, I felt so relieved when he just showed me a list of slime variants instead of laughing. There were so many different options on the list, slimes made of just gel, sap, wax, and there were so many different colors, but that was the problem, they all felt right, I wanted to be any of them.

It was so selfish to ask, but I needed to know if a slime that could change color was possible, or something that could truly transform into any kind of slime. He asked what I meant, if I was looking into becoming a shapeshifter. I shook my head no and said I wanted something like a chameleon. He took off his glasses and pinched his nose, like the weight of every request he ever had just hit him. We, kind of, argued for a while. Well it was him telling me all the different reasons it wouldn’t work or how some people had set up safe LED strips to become a slime strobe globe of different colors, but for some reason it was the one thing I didn’t want to budge on. The one thing I was certain I wanted was that I wouldn’t be certain about my final choice. I was actually ready to just punch this old man until he suddenly folded to my demands and told me he'd need time to make a new variant for something like that. Something about a membrane and chromatophores I think. He also stated, bluntly, that I still needed to pick the type of slime. Being able to switch from red to blue is one thing but there needs to be a base. 

There were a lot of good options, to the point it took me an hour to go through everything and just think about it. I was probably pushing him a bit too close to his next appointment with how long I was searching through options. It certainly makes me wonder how anyone can just know the answer right away. Eventually I had to settle on one and chose the soap variant. I was told it wasn’t actual soap, but it smelled nice and helped deal with germs. I’m not a germaphobe but I like the idea of smelling nice all the time.

After that, I was told I would be contacted eventually when my medication was ready. The wait could be best be described as brutal. There were a lot of calls I made only for me to be told it wasn’t ready yet. I thought I got scammed, like I went to the wrong place and that quack doctor was just faking everything and I wouldn't ever get to be the real me. The most I got was a message once a month saying the research was going well, if I was lucky. 

It was about a year when I got a call back from him, explaining that my medication was ready. I'll be honest, I thought he wouldn't have ever completed it and just stole $600 out of my bank account for a single appointment. I have it now though, a bottle of gel capsules. They taste awful, like shoving soap into my mouth, which makes sense thinking about it. Apparently I won't need to take my normal hormone medication after a bit. Which is good because it's really expensive to pay for both. I guess that concludes my thoughts on the first day. The doc wants me to keep writing down my physical changes but also that I write down my emotional state as well. I don't really get why that’s so important, but whatever, it’s the least I can do if I finally get to be the slime girl I always wanted to be. I can't wait to see how I turn out.

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

Next

Thank you for reading through this story. While I’m sure it’s obvious, this is a story inspired by @ayviedoesthings own Dragon HRT as well as @welldrawnfish Fish HRT. I’ve loved these stories ever since they first came out. But I never felt like I had a story of my own to write until I read @sandyca5tle own slime HRT. Please check out all these people’s stories if you haven’t already, and thank you to sandyca5tle for really lighting the fire in me that made me want to try my hand at this sort of thing. I have plans to continue this for a while, not sure how long it’ll be but I want to be able to write a new segment at least one post every one to two weeks. I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know if you have any advice on how to improve my writing. Thank you so much for reading all this, seriously, it means the world to me. 

[genericpuff]

I was kind of curious: What do you think of Persephone's therapy scenes in episodes 160-161?

I personally liked them, but you and many other LO critics always seem to see things that totally flew over my head (I mean that in a positive way).

I think the idea behind them was fine, just the execution that felt really half-baked. Rachel doesn't like scenes to sit too long so the therapy scene, of course, wound up being rushed in the course of 2-3 episodes (meaning she had to have Persephone dump everything all at once) and while Persephone's dialogue is handled relatively well, the direction of the scene itself feels entirely mismanaged (which is both a side effect of Rachel's directionless writing and the fact that she clearly doesn't want to do more than one of these kinds of episodes so she needs to speedrun it).

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion concerning sexual assault ahead!

Like, let's start with Persephone's intent in going to therapy. Wanting to pursue therapy doesn't just happen suddenly, there's usually a "trigger event" to make someone realize "I need help", whether it be hitting rock bottom or even just going "I feel like I don't have the skills or tools necessary to deal with what I'm dealing with, I need a professional opinion".

Despite Eros advising her to go to therapy all the way back in S1 to address her assault-

-she actually finally goes to therapy in S2 not to address the assault, but to address... how she feels insecure in comparison to Hera who she just found out Hades had a long-term affair with??? At least that's definitely the implication.

And then of course the therapy session itself segues immediately into "Persephone is a high achiever and it's because of her mom being overbearing" which Rachel doesn't connect at all to either the SA or her feeling insecure compared to Hera (which, by the way, barely even has anything to do with her, but she didn't - and still doesn't - have the emotional maturity or self-respect to realize that Hades is a serial cheater-)

That's where the first therapy episode cuts off, and then the next episode immediately opens with Persephone writing her entire backstory on a whiteboard, so we can assume time has passed and she's talked about everything from her childhood up until this point.

Then we get Chiron asking Persephone... what could go wrong if she leaves TGOEM??

Even though we never saw any of the actual sequence so it just feels like a question that's coming out of nowhere? Like did Persephone say during that schpeel that she wanted to leave TGOEM? Isn't that something we should have seen to connect these two trains of thought?

Ah, right, because we have to get into Hades. Because this comic fails the Bechdel test so hard it can't even have a character talk about their trauma or childhood without it seguing into "well there's this one specific main character guy I just really wanna sleep with-"

Don't get me wrong, if Rachel is trying to "deconstruct purity culture" here, I can get her angle with this, if Persephone has been "groomed her entire life" to be an eternal maiden then there's clearly some thought processes about sexual attraction there that are being challenged by her attraction to Hades. But it just feels so rushed purely for the sake of getting her through her trauma and childhood problems and everything that Rachel tacked onto her backstory (in an attempt to make her seem more than just a self-insert) so that Rachel can get her back on track to sleeping with Hades, the one and only man she's clearly ever felt sexual attraction to enough to want to leave TGOEM and question her entire childhood.

And then we get this and I just-

Like first of all, again, Persephone being a complete airhead and not realizing that it has less to do with her possibly being an inadequate partner and more to do with Hades being a serial cheater who also used her as an emotional affair partner;

but ALSO the fact that the conclusion is some "eureka" moment of "you're a bad decision maker" ??? I was a fan of the comic still when this scene happened and even I went "huh?"

Like she doesn't bother to try and connect it to everything she just learned and said about her childhood and how she wants to be the "perfect daughter" who will make everyone happy, Chiron just reduces it to "oh you just suck at making decisions". As if "sucking at making decisions" isn't like, a reactionary extension of deeper problems. She's treating it as if Persephone is some "puzzle" to be solved and her being a "bad decision maker" was the answer when it's undoubtedly just one of many side effects of her upbringing. It feels like she's addressing the cough and not the virus.

Also a little off topic but-

Gotta love how we've never seen Persephone actually employ this homework from her therapist because she's constantly stapled to Hades and the only thing she cares about is his happiness. Literally, I don't think Persephone could possibly answer that question because she's never been independent enough to even learn what makes her happy - she's jumped from wanting to make her mother happy to wanting to make Hades happy but we're supposed to condemn the former and celebrate the latter.

Buuut of course we don't get her answering that question because again, Rachel can't spend more than 30 seconds on a single scene because that would demand too much writing and thought from her. So we cut to Hera having a discussion with Asclepius regarding her scars re-opening, yadda yadda.

By the time we cut back to the therapy session at the start of the next episode (that's three episodes that have been spent basically accomplishing nothing because none of the thought threads tie together in a meaningful way beyond what the audience has to assume) Chiron is conveniently wrapping things up and it's then and only then does Rachel try to actually incorporate the SA plotline that was Persephone's ORIGINAL MOTIVATION in going to therapy.

Now, the scene for the most part is fine, I don't really like how the therapy session was written leading up to it, but her describing her freeze response and how she feels guilty she couldn't "fight back" is a very real feeling that I can definitely say was well written.

My one gripe with it though - and sure, this might be nitpicky, but here me out - is this:

I don't particularly like that Chiron the therapist just found out about her patient being a rape victim - someone who's also said she doesn't like people grabbing her / touching her without her consent - and then decides the best course of action is to comfort her... while touching her.

Now I want to make it perfectly clear, it's not against the law or even the code of ethics to make physical contact between a therapist and their patient. Loads of patients have made breakthroughs with their therapists that have called for hugs and while some therapists may not be okay with it, there are definitely therapists who are who fully understand that hugs in those moments are the best thing for a person. But it's still a general boundary that is there and even with patients who aren't victims of SA, consent needs to be asked for / given.

So Chiron just... coming over and touching Persephone on the knee, while undoubtedly seen as a "warm and comforting act" by those who have had similar sessions with their own therapists or even just those who have no clue and see it on the surface level as being "sweet", really irks me, because it just seems so tone deaf to do with a character like Persephone who is supposed to be a victim of having her bodily autonomy taken away from her.

Again, it's a small criticism, and undoubtedly a nitpick in the eyes of some, but a simple "can I give you a hug?" from either Chiron or Persephone would have gone a long way in accomplishing Persephone's need for consent and bodily autonomy a lot more than just having Chiron come up and touch her leg without her consent. Please, for the love of god, let Persephone have some autonomy, asking for consent doesn't ruin the moment.

And that's pretty much it, Persephone talks about how she feels like she's tethered to Apollo, and Chiron assures her that's not the case, session over, Persephone goes outside to Hades aaaand notice how we never actually tackled that "I feel insecure because of my partner having former partners?" thing? Notice how the best we got was her talking about her fears of being an "inadequate partner" which focused entirely on her not being "enough" for Hades and being a "bad decision maker" rather than pointing out 1.) Hades' own faults in being a serial cheater that would undoubtedly contribute to her insecurities and 2.) what Persephone could do for Hades rather than what Hades could do for Persephone? It's always "I don't know if I'm good enough for him" and never "I don't know if he's good enough for me."

Yet another F-- on Lore Olympus' Bechdel test. Every single thing tacked onto Persephone's backstory is meant purely to get her with Hades - TGOEM is just an obstacle preventing her from having sex with Hades, the assault is just a framing device to show how much "better" Hades is for Persephone than Apollo, her overbearing childhood is just to show how much more "free" she is now that she's not living with her mother and is living with Hades instead, etc.

No agency, no autonomy, no character, even when it tries.

[allbark-no-bite]

cain complex.

damon salvatore x reader (wc: 3.6k)

summary: he was the righteous brother, ever faithful and always gentle. and then there was Damon, dark and volatile with his ravenous Cain complex

warnings: angst, character death

author’s note: please note that this has nothing to do with the actual plot of TVD. this one’s been along time coming. ik people have a lot of mixed feelings about Damon so do with this what you will

————————————————————————

You started going to therapy again, per Ric's request. He hadn't forced you to go of course, he didn't feel that it was his place to tell you what do. Even though he did feel responsible for looking after you and Jeremy, it seemed as though the two of you looked after him just as much, and really it felt weird to enforce anything under the guise of being your parent.

While he did technically assume guardianship and enforced the unavoidable things like school and general safety, he had a tendency to make other things appear as mere suggestions. Such as one am curfews and therapy.

"It's just—I don't know. Just be a normal teenager. Teenagers go to therapy all the time. That's like the thing now," he'd said one morning while rinsing off dishes in the kitchen sink. And while he had been nonchalant about the suggestion, you knew he was really hoping you would take him up on the offer. Maybe Ric was right, it was time to do normal non-vampire teenager things.

—

"You said you're still sleeping at his house?"

His voice sounds contemplative, even a little concerned. "You know that while it's okay to want some alone time to process, it's better to surround yourself with people that you care about and who care about you. Maybe Ric or even one of your friends could stay with you?"

Ric had pulled a few strings at the university and gotten in touch with a friend of Isabel's who was  familiar with the whole supernatural vampire situation. So while he hadn't particularly been taken by surprise by anything you had told him, there are still somethings that you don't know how to explain.

A light, airy laugh leaves your mouth as you wipe the wetness away from your eyes, stalling in hopes that there's a better way to explain that you're not there alone. "Well... there's Damon."

Damon, who without question, took away the worst suffering imaginable from your little brother. Damon, who time and time again, made sure your family was safe. Damon, who fought his way into your life and never left. 

He actually pauses and looks up from his notes. This is the first time that you have seen him look surprised after nearly two weeks of sessions.

"You're staying with Damon?"

—

You feel him even before you see him at the funeral. His presence has always been like that, not quite smothering but certainly there. Alway there. His shoulder brushes yours to formally announce his arrival.

"Hey," he offers lowly, his smooth voice as level and unwavering as ever.

"Hey," you breathe back as you turn, looking up to meet his sharp eyes. They're intensified by a subtle redness around his irises. It is strange to think you had found them unnerving at first. Admittedly, their unnatural blueness was shocking to everyone. They were the eyes of a natural born predator, startling as much as they were cunning.

The crisp black suit hugs his broad shoulders in a presidentially confident manner. It's a noticeable difference as compared to how you are so used to seeing him, untamed and bestial. You're reminded of a wolf in captivity, controlled but only because he has momentarily allowed it.

Damon sighs heavily, like it's the first real breath he's taken in a while. "As someone who did not die when they should have over two hundred years ago, I can't say this ever gets any easier."

"It's not supposed to be easy. You're brothers, Damon."

He snorts, his shiny blue eyes fixed ahead on the casket. "So were Cain and Abel. Need I remind you of how that ended?" His voice comes out dry and ends with his signature humorous lilt that borderlines on insensitive; defiantly not how you would expect one who just lost their brother to sound.

Used to Damon's sarcasm by now, you recognize the bitterness in it. You know that no matter how many fights they had, no matter how much they disagreed, they would always forgive each other in the end. You wouldn't go as far as to say that they loved each other, they had both caused each other too much pain for that, but they were so devoted to keeping the other alive that sometimes the lines blurred. They were loyal like dogs, the Salvatores.

As if to address the silence that has washed over the two of you, he finally says, "We'll get over this."

"I know," you say, staring ahead at the casket.

When you don't look at him, he says it again. "I mean it, (Y/n). We're going to be okay."

Your throat is tight and all you can do is stare ahead as you fight the losing battle of not crying. "I know," you say again, but this time your voice cracks.

Damon sighs. "C'mere," he says, extending his hand out to you and pulling you in under his arm. Suddenly needing his embrace, you give in and turn to wrap your arms around him, your hands sliding under his suit jacket to feel the leanness of his body hidden beneath. You burrow into his chest, trying and failing to muffle your own sobs. With a sigh, Damon rests his chin on the top of your head. He allows you to stand there and just cry for a while, humming so that you can feel the vibrations of his throat.

When your tears stop and you go quiet in his arms, Damon pulls away from you just slightly to push the hair away from your face. Leaning down, he runs his perfectly sculpted nose along your throat, under your jaw, and up your cheek. You can tell by the way he breathes that the kind of respect that you're asking him for is causing him real, physical pain. You are pressed so close that you get the sense he is trying to make this enough.

"He loved you," he whispers, his mouth hot against your cheek. "He loved you so much."

You shut your eyes, fighting back more tears and try to will away the grief that is clawing it's way up your throat. Instead you think about the firm muscle of Damon's arms around you and the raw familiarity of his body on yours. Sure, you had loved Stefan, but Damon was no stranger.

"I loved you too," he murmurs, speaking into your shoulder. "And I know that I'm not Stefan—but god I loved you. I still love you."

I know, you want to say. I know. But you can't quite find the words and Damon doesn't push you to.

He just hugs you like he knows it might be the last time. Because after this you'll need space and time to heal, and he'll give it to you. Unwillingly, but he'll give it to you. You deserved that much.

You want to tell him that you will never learn how to love anyone quite like him. Because he had rearranged your ribs and crawled into you at some point without the intention to stay. But instead you don't say anything because you're not ready yet, don't know if you'll ever be again, and you don't want to make promises that you can't keep.

Regardless of the contradiction to the space that you have asked for, most nights you still find yourself in the Salvatore manor, like a dog waiting for someone who's never going to return home. You know that Ric would rather you home, and you've tried explaining to him your need to be there, but you really don't even understand it yourself. Sometimes you spend days there at a time, lingering between the kitchen, the sofa, and one of the spare bedrooms without much of a routine.

Damon's heavy weight shifts the bed as he eases onto the mattress behind you, having found you in one of the many spare bedrooms after his shower. He is the exception to your lack of routine. He shapes his body around yours with practiced ease. A sigh escapes his nose as he settles in, his nose in your hair, chest pressed to your back. You hug your arms around yourself tighter, as if that could somehow communicate to him that you need to feel his closeness. It does, and his arms encircling your waist tighten. Neither of you say anything for a long time.

He has been quiet for weeks now, uncharacteristically so. Maybe part of it is due to the lack of bristling arguments with Stefan. The two of you have learned to live around each other surprisingly well. Much like two ghosts inhabiting a big empty house. Somehow you keep ending up in the same bed.

You turn to face him, the sheets shuffling as you move. His hand lifts from your waist, hovering to allow you the initiation of any sort of contact. Even before now, he has always kept a big brotherly distance from you; respectful but achingly familiar.

You move your head so that you are both sharing the same pillow, your bodies only separated by a sliver of space in between. Lifting your own hand from beneath the sheets, you grab his wrist and place his palm on your waist. The corners of his mouth vaguely lift into a smile. Your chest feels surprisingly light at the sight of it. Damon has always been breathtakingly handsome.

But he's always been Damon.

His fingertips trail up from your waist. He runs them up and down the ridges of your ribs, the blunt of his nails barely grazing your skin. His heavy hand slips up your body to cradle your cheek, his blue eyes wandering over your face while his thumb caresses your cheekbone. You tilt your chin up towards him so that your noses brush. Damon swallows and his lips part, exhaling softly.

His brow is less tense that you have seen it in a long time. No longer set with that look of insistent worry. You don't mean for him to worry so much about you.

"This doesn't have to be anything more than you want it to be," he murmurs, stopping you before you both edge too close.

Normally anyone would have taken this as some sort of forewarning, a reminder that he is not responsible for whatever follows after. This is Damon after all. All the same, you see it in his eyes that this isn't him warning you. He really means it; whatever you choose, it's fine. He'll be fine.

The reality of his continuous presence has just begun to sink in. It has been in the forefront of your mind that he's been restraining himself, hoping that eventually this transitionary stage will fade into something more. You have never imagined that he would settle for what little you're giving him. It is so uncharacteristic of him, to settle for anything less than everything.

This change that has happened within him, you have been blind to. There was a reason you had fallen for Stefan. He was the righteous brother, ever faithful and always gentle. And then there was Damon, dark and volatile with his ravenous Cain complex. Never would you have described Damon as compromising and steadfast, but here he is, laying beside you, saying that he would be content with nothing more other than to lie next to you and exist in your presence.

You grab his hand with your own, following his fingers as they glide down to your neck. "That's a heavy promise for a man who's going to live forever."

Damon thumbs at the hollow of your throat, but his blue eyes are fixed on your own. "Even if I had a thousand lifetimes, I would spend all but one choosing you."

"And with that one?" you ask, swallowing beneath his touch.

He sighs, still smiling faintly. "I would step back. Give you your happy ending with him." Only the slight twitch of the corner of his mouth gives him away. That was his one tell, that self deprecating look.

"I am happy," you assure him.

"But I'm not Stefan."

You don't say anything for a moment. Instead you prolong your gaze on his face, taking in the undeniable attractiveness of it. Now that you think about it, you can't even pin down the moment where you started allowing yourself to even consider such a thought. At what point had you started to think of him as anything more than a friend?

"No, you're not."

He swallows, and for the first time tonight, the look in his eyes is hurt. "And that's it? It's just always going to be Stefan?"

You want to be able to tell him that you're moving on, it's just that it still feels like you're hurting all of the time. "I don't know. Maybe if I had met you first..."

Damon's eyes look away, like he's taking a moment to compose himself, before he sighs. "Right... right."

*four years ago*

"New OR–LINS."

"New Orleenz."

"No!" you exclaim, your chest squeezing tight due to lack of air it's getting from laughing and the intensity of his million watt smile.

Damon grins lazily, his pearly white teeth on display again. "I'm telling you, my parents are from the south. It's New Orleens."

The action only seems to make your chest tighter. You feel slightly dizzy from a combination of the champagne and electric nerves. All you can seem do is laugh at the earnesty in his voice and hope he blames your flushed cheeks on the alcohol.

Damon Salvatore. The mystery man of Mystic Falls. He's got a front page picture face with all of the amenities: unsettling, crystal blue eyes, jet black hair, and a wicked smile. The same smile that is currently rendering you speechless.

"You're staring."

Quickly, you tear your eyes away from his face. You glance to his nearly empty glass of whiskey and then back to his now smirking face. "Sorry," you reply, embarrassed at having been caught staring. You were a grown woman, not some teenage girl fawning over an older guy. And he was older, you just couldn't put your finger on how much older.

Damon just grins wryly, his pink lips pressed together to conceal most of his smile. He hums, sitting back on the bar stool. "It's okay. You're not the only one."

You glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Matt. He stares back at you with that signature worried expression on his face. You sigh and turn back towards the bar, acting as though you didn't just see him.

You haven't talked for most of the night and it's looking like it might be better if you kept it that way. You'd fought again over his parents. It wasn't his fault. None of it was. He was Matt, your best friend since elementary school for god's sake. Matt, who was caring and loving and honest and too good to you.

You focus on the little bit of champagne left in your glass. You can feel the burn of Damon's eyes on you.

"Hey, I get it. It's okay," he assures you. His hand settles on your knee under the bar. It's not nearly as warm as you were expecting it to be but it still makes your skin feel hot.

You sigh, unable to look at him and staring to realize that what you're doing is ridiculous. You had a boyfriend. It was wrong for you to be sitting here, talking with a random man and letting him but you drinks. Even if he was gorgeous.

You want to ask him if he has a girlfriend because maybe that would make this whole thing a little bit easier to take. Then you could just get up and walk away. But you can't bring yourself to even look him, much less say anything to his face. Maybe you don't even want to know. Him being single would make this whole thing worse. It would put the ball back in your field.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, leaning in. This time his hand travels further up your knee. His cologne is overwhelming in the sense that if you don't get away from him, you'll do something irrational.

"Excuse me," you manage, jumping up from your seat and tipping the stool as you go. You don't wait to see if it falls because you can't risk looking back at his face.

Your feet carry you in the direction of Caroline and Bonnie, brushing directly past Matt, who you try not to look at. Thankfully he doesn't try to stop you. When you reach your friends, Caroline turns towards you smiling, but it grows smaller as she takes in your look of urgency.

"Hey!— What's wrong? Is everything okay?" Her hand finds your elbow, the worry on her face evident.

You place your hand on top of hers. "Really, it's nothing. I'm fine. Just some random guy at the bar," you reassure her, feeling your heat rate as it begins to settle.

A look of gentle understanding crosses her face and she gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. "Things are going to work out between you and Matt. I know they will. Okay?"

You swallow and try not to let her see the doubt on your own face. "I know. Thanks, Care."

This time she breaks out into a real smile, grabbing your hand. "Now come on! Let's dance!"

You allow her to drag out onto the middle of the floor in the grill, meeting up with Bonnie. It's easy to let your worries go for even just a little while when you're with them. It's a Friday night and you're with your best friends and there's absolutely nothing to worry about. It's kinda of like what they say, nothing bad ever happens in Mystic Falls.

"I'm going to take it as a compliment that you're talking to everyone here but me."

The voice coming from behind you makes you jump. You hadn't even heard his footsteps coming up behind you. It was like he had appeared out of thin air. You could have sworn he wasn't there a moment ago.

You'd stepped out of the backdoor of The Grill for a moment, needing some fresh air. More like needing to get away from Matt's wounded puppy dog eyes, but air all the same. You had nearly all but forgotten the handsome stranger at the bar until now.

Damon approaches you, his hands hidden in the pockets of his black leather jacket. He looks no less confident than he did earlier at the bar, that easy smile still on his lips, charming blue eyes shining in the moonlight.

"You gotta be careful. They say there are vampires around here."

For once you allow your shoulders to relax, and you let out a sigh. "Hey. I'm sorry," you begin, shaking your head. "I'm having a rough night. It's just that I'm probably about to break up with my boyfriend except I'm not supposed to break up with him because he's perfect. But then he starts talking about getting married and I'm not ready to get married. I'm barley nineteen—"

Damon just stands there, listening quietly to your rant and watching you with curious eyes. That's all you've wanted for past week. Just someone to listen without trying to convince you that Matt was the perfect guy.

Even when your rant ends, Damon remains quiet. He sucks on his pearly teeth before replying. "Sometimes just because he's the perfect guy doesn't mean he's the right guy. You can take it from me when I say I don't regret not being the perfect guy." His face pinches briefly into something that looks like hurt as he says, "It's no fun anyway."

Admittedly, you kind of laugh at his revelation. "Because you would know all about that. Have you looked in a mirror lately, Damon? In what world are you not perfect?"

His mouth twitches up but he doesn't really make the effort to smile. "You'd be surprised."

You swallow, watching him as he walks a bit closer. "What do you mean?"

"Do you have any idea what it's like to no longer be human?" Your brows furrow but Damon cuts you off before you can answer. "You don't. It's terrible. I hate it. I hate it more than anything in the world. But what I hate even more is that you're going to have to forget about me."

His hand cups your cheek and you know you need to step back, you need to get away from him, but your legs are frozen and you can't move. Your heart is back to pounding in your chest like it was earlier. You want to scream. For anyone, for Matt, but Damon's hand is cupping your jaw and he could shut you up the second you opened your mouth.

His blue eyes are staring directly into yours. They're just as unsettling as they were when he caught your eye at the bar earlier. What is possibly even more terrifying is that you can't look away.

And then he's just... gone.

Your heart is still thumping in your chest, but when you look around, there's no one there.

Had you been talking to someone?

*present day*

There's something that he's not telling you, but you won't push him to, not right now. Right now it's good to just lay with him and know that you're both here and that he's not going anywhere.

He could tell you. He could be selfish and tell you that he did meet you first. That you were never Stefan's to begin with.

But that's the thing about being Cain. He will always be his brother's keeper.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I'm sorry that you're going through this. It sounds terrible.

How does a machine make your bones feel like jam? What do you mean, "like jam"? What helps while you're in the machine?

You lamented the lack of a "no downers" Tumblr option before. Is there any kind of fun internet thing your followers could curate for you?

thank you for actually asking me about the Big Machine

so a modern radiation therapy machine looks like this:

It is actually kind of hard to communicate the scale of this thing. It's the size of most people's living rooms, and the whole thing rotates around you. You feel like you're trying to dock with the international space station.

Actually being in the machine doesn't feel like anything. You lay down, they take your boob out of your hospital gown and align the lasers to these little tattoos they've put on your chest and sides, they leave the room, Vivaldi plays for about 5 minutes while things beep and buzz and the space station revolves a few times, and then you're free to get dressed and go home.

Then - in my experience, as someone who is, apparently, "a real outlier" in terms of how sensitive I am to radiation - about 30 minutes later, on the subway ride home, you start to feel extremely bad. Shaky, weak, exhausted, stabbing pains all over the boob, and just an overall feeling of, like...internal griminess. Like there's grit gumming up everything on your insides. You feel wobbly, like your bones have turned to jelly. It feels a little like food poisoning, but without the nausea, if you've ever had that experience. Just that jittery, feverish, whole-body feeling of something being very wrong.

That feeling persists for 4-5 hours, then starts to taper down; but it never tapers down completely, so every day (and you go in for radiation every day, except for weekends) it builds up a little bit more. So on Monday, you feel like shit for a couple of hours, but you shake it off by dinner time; but by Friday, you're dragging yourself through every step of the process and then you get home and pass out for 14 hours.

It's weird, too, because it's not like there's anything that the doctors can do to make it better. Like, they can't give you a different treatment, or give you less radiation. There's a set amount of radiation you need to receive over a set amount of time to be sure that they've killed all the cancer, and the alternative to radiation is cancer, so you're getting radiation. The radiologist was sympathetic to how hard I've been taking it, but all she could really do is remind me that it's temporary. All of the effects of the radiation will be out of my system a week or two after the treatment ends, so like. Knuckle down, camper, it is what it is.

Y'all are sweet to ask if there's anything you can do, but honestly, not really. I vent a bit about this stuff on Tumblr because I don't want my friends and family to have to hear about how tough this is. Sending the occasional nice message or little question is appreciated! It gives me something to think about that isn't cancer.