#Why do I need help with all basic tasks and functions

[fragglerockopinions]

I am like actually such a chore to be around and talk to and exist as what is wrong with me

[flimsy-roost]

I realized the other day that the reason I didn't watch much TV as a teenager (and why I'm only now catching up on late aughts/early teens media that I missed), is because I literally didn't understand how to use our TV. My parents got a new system, and it had three remotes with a Venn diagram of functions. If someone left the TV on an unfamiliar mode, I didn't know how to get back to where I wanted to be, so I just stopped watching TV on my own altogether.

I explained all this to my therapist, because I didn't know if this was more related to my then-unnoticed autism, or to my relationship with my parents at the time (we had issues less/unrelated to neurodivergency). She told me something interesting.

In children's autism assessments, a common test is to give them a straightforward task that they cannot reasonably perform, like opening an overtight jar. The "real" test is to see, when they realize that they cannot do it on their own, if they approach a caregiver for help. Children that do not seek help are more likely to be autistic than those that do.

This aligns with the compulsory independence I've noticed to be common in autistic adults, particularly articulated by those with lower support needs and/or who were evaluated later in life. It just genuinely does not occur to us to ask for help, to the point that we abandon many tasks that we could easily perform with minor assistance. I had assumed it was due to a shared common social trauma (ie bad experiences with asking for help in the past), but the fact that this trait is a childhood test metric hints at something deeper.

My therapist told me that the extremely pathologizing main theory is that this has something to do with theory of mind, that is doesn't occur to us that other people may have skills that we do not. I can't speak for my early childhood self, or for all autistic people, but I don't buy this. Even if I'm aware that someone else has knowledge that I do not (as with my parents understanding of our TV), asking for help still doesn't present itself as an option. Why?

My best guess, using only myself as a model, is due to the static wall of a communication barrier. I struggle a lot to make myself understood, to articulate the thing in my brain well enough that it will appear identically (or at least close enough) in somebody else's brain. I need to be actively aware of myself and my audience. I need to know the correct words, the correct sentence structure, and a close-enough tone, cadence, and body language. I need draft scripts to react to possible responses, because if I get caught too off guard, I may need several minutes to construct an appropriate response. In simple day-to-day interactions, I can get by okay. In a few very specific situations, I can excel. When given the opportunity, I can write more clearly than I am ever capable of speaking.

When I'm in a situation where I need help, I don't have many of my components of communication. I don't always know what my audience knows. I don't have sufficient vocabulary to explain what I need. I don't know what information is relevant to convey, and the order in which I should convey it. I don't often understand the degree of help I need, so I can come across inappropriately urgent or overly relaxed. I have no ability to preplan scripts because I don't even know the basic plot of the situation.

I can stumble though with one or two deficiencies, but if I'm missing too much, me and the potential helper become mutually unintelligible. I have learned the limits of what I can expect from myself, and it is conceptualized as a real and physical barrier. I am not a runner, so running a 5k tomorrow does not present itself as an option to me. In the same way, if I have subconscious knowledge that an interaction is beyond my capability, it does not present itself as an option to me. It's the minimum communication requirements that prevent me from asking for help, not anything to do with the concept of help itself.

Maybe. This is the theory of one person. I'm curious if anyone else vibes with this at all.

[honeytonedhottie]

ways to look after ur mental well being⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧋

mental health is definitely the most important thing that u should work on and prioritize in everyday life so here r some ways that u can look after urself ✨🗒️💕

PEN AND PAPER ;

pen and paper is ur best friend, being able to articulate ur thoughts and get them down on paper is a great way to practice self awareness and is a good skill to have in general.

its best not to keep things harbored or bottled up in ur mind and if ur looking to get into therapy a great place to start getting comfy with ur emotions and thoughts is journalling.

this includes things like keeping a diary, doing shadow work, or prompted journalling. just being able to get comfortable and aware of whats going on in ur head is rly good for you.

CHECK-UPS ;

make a habit of checking up on yourself to make sure that ur doing everything that u need to be doing to function at ur best, to make sure that ur feeling okay and making adequate time for you.

some rly good ways to have little check-ups is just preparing some questions to ask urself sometimes (how do i feel?) is the most basic one but asking urself that does help put ur feelings into perspective.

METICULOUS ;

oftentimes, when we neglect our physical care, we can start to feel the effects of that in our mental health and our mood which is why i think that self care is such a major aspect in mental health.

sometimes when we hit rock bottom in our mental health/healing journey, doing self care can seem tedious and like a daunting task. its important to prepare an alternate routine for times like this when u absolutely MUST do a little something.

to find a good place to start i recommend my posts : the feel better formula. 🍰💗

KEEP A BOOKLET OF REMEDIES ;

sometimes it makes me feel better if i have a little booklet that tells me how to treat symptoms that i might feel, whether thats physical or mental. doing so makes me feel like i have a plan. some notes from my little booklet of remedies include

cuz sometimes, all your missing in ur mental health equation is one thing and its important to know urself and what u need, bcuz you are your own best doctor sometimes.

ASK THE HARD QUESTIONS ;

sometimes we need to be uncomfortable to be comfortable. some questions or some things that i wanna come to terms with/when i need to call myself out on something. THATS LOWKEY UNCOMFORTABLE.

when im doing shadow work and digging deep, THATS UNCOMFORTABLE. but its what needs to be done in order for me to move forward on my journey as a person.

with all this being said its important to never lose sight of urself and to be ur biggest protector, look out for yourself, do what u need to do to heal, HAPPY HEALING JOURNEY GIRLIES ✨

[temis-de-leon]

Gn!MC with chronic joint pain

Characters: Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately, could be read as romantic or platonic)

Main Masterlist

Anon request: Could I request the brothers with a gn!MC with chronic joint pain? Sure, medicine makes it feel better when they take it, but it never 100% goes away and the meds aren't without side effects. On a good day, they can function relatively normally even if they do certain things at a slower pace. However, on a bad day, they can hardly get out of bed or do basic tasks (brush their teeth, lift a coffee cup, use a hand towel, etc) without difficulty, and require a fair amount of support when flare ups happen

A/N: I'm pretty sure Google thinks I'm the one with chronic pain

.

Mammon

Although he’s the one who spends time with you the most, it took an embarrassingly long time to notice how significant your winces and fatigue were. After all, his initial belief was that humans were naturally weak.

He thought he understood why you stayed too long in bed from time to time or why your brows would frown when you grabbed your backpack if it was especially heavy some days.

You’d say you couldn’t help it whenever he teased and of course, you talked with frustration each of those times, so he learnt to ignore it; just like you tried to do.

Then came the day when he crushed you in the hallway while running away from Lucifer. The only thing he could do before both of you fell to the ground was twist your body so he could act as a cushion, but even that wasn’t enough.

You started to complain before he had the chance to ask for payment for his ‘sacrifice’, but it wasn’t just words or berating; Lucifer was already doing plenty of that.

It was a mix of gasps and moans of pain that stopped both brothers in their tracks.

The only reason why the eldest didn’t obliterate the younger demon on the spot was because the guilt was already eating him alive.

He helps you with no asking needed, carrying your backpack to and from school, helping you put on your coat or making you breakfast, although it’ll most likely be burnt.

He’ll stop if it makes you feel useless or incapacitated on days when you are mostly okay, but if you’re barely able to lift your head off the pillow, you can bet all your money he’s laying right next to you ready to make you some company, even in silence.

It will take him some time, but, eventually, you will have his undying support.

Levi

Being as distracted as he is, with his eyes glued to a screen most of the day, wasn’t an excuse for him to ignore all the pill bottles in your bathroom cabinet or the way you sometimes couldn’t keep up with him when he was excited and walking too fast.

He feels like a horrible friend when you tell him. He should’ve known!

You will have to explain the whole situation to him in the comfort of his room, moments after he requests your presence for the testing of an arcade shooting game that will, for sure, make your arms sore for the next few days.

Although you assure him you can still play, just not for excruciatingly long periods and on lower difficulty, he still feels like he failed you in some way.

Sharing his interests with you will never be enjoyable as long as it has the possibility of causing you pain.

Fortunately, he knows countless games where long-range movements are not required and you can have fun anyway: visual and choice-based novels, turn-based RPGs, social simulation games…

He especially likes the choice-based ones. From your views on morality to romance and friendship, each important interaction with the characters or the lore helps him know you more and more as the game progresses.

It doesn’t stop there, though.

He will also try, not so subtly, to find games, shows, comics and manga where you can relate to the main character in one way or another.

It could be seen as pity, but that isn’t his intention at all. You should enjoy the media you interact with! Either heroes or villains or something in between, you should have someone you can understand on the screen or paper.

Asmo

Since observing you and everything related to you is an enjoyable pastime of his, it doesn’t take him long before he figures out your medication schedule. At first his beauty-driven mind thinks your pills are vitamin supplements, but then he notices the headaches, the stomach issues and the exhaustion; no doubt side effects.

It is on one of your worst days when he knocks on your door asking to spend the evening together. The only thing you can do to greet him is throw a weak peace sign from beneath the blankets and that’s when he pouts and frowns in worry.

He hopes you trust him enough to talk about it in case you want to keep it a secret and, if not, why would he treat it like a taboo subject?

He may be the only one who straight-up asks with absolute normality.

Changes are not noticeable at first seeing that he already liked being around you and dotting on you before knowing anything, but rest assured he will be there if you ever need him.

On days when you feel like you can’t take care of yourself, the only thing you have to do is send him a message.

Whatever you need, he will do.

From drawing a bath so you don’t have to stand up while holding the shower head to applying dry shampoo on your hair so you don’t get out of bed at all. He will also do your skincare routine and even your makeup if you're up to it; brush your teeth and your hair and organize your room while mindlessly chatting with you.

His favourite shared activity is painting your nails since you don’t have to move at all and you still enjoy each other’s company.

The rest of the brothers need to remind him from time to time that you aren’t a doll for him to dress, but he won’t ever do something that makes you uncomfortable in any way.

Beel

He doesn’t really notice until it comes up naturally in conversation.

You’re both in the kitchen, getting a snack to hold on until everyone is ready for dinner, and he starts talking about a new workout plan he is following in the gym. A famous bodybuilder posted it on his Devilgram account and he was too curious not to give it a shot.

Although he can do it on his own, he likes to spend time with you, so he innocently asks if you want to go with him someday and try it, even if it’s a watered-down beginner version.

It’s not like you can’t go to the gym, but the number of exercises you feel like you can do is limited and you need to be mindful while doing all of them. Hell, even at home you need to be careful with some of your movements, doing simple chores like making your bed or washing the dishes.

You remind him how you cook too, usually doing one-pot meals and trying to use your body as little as possible; there are human influencers (highly recommend) that show specific tricks to make cooking easier for people like you, after all.

Luckily, he understands immediately, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to give up.

Unbeknownst to you, he researches specialized exercises and routines, as well as food, made to alleviate pain and strengthen your weakest points.

It isn’t a definitive solution, and certainly not the best, but it’s the thought that counts and he’s genuinely trying to make your life more comfortable and pleasant; not so draining.

He won’t push if you decline his offers and options (he’ll never force you to do anything, even if it benefits you), but will be extremely happy if you accept.

Belphie

He never asks, but you never have to tell him either, he just knows.

Your pain reflects in the way you move and live your day-to-day life, slower than the rest of them and always taking precautions, medicating yourself periodically even if sometimes that isn’t enough.

All of them have dinner in your room when you’re feeling way worse than usual and each time his memories can’t help but go back to that fateful evening in the attic.

He willingly and excitedly caused you abysmal pain back then, but he doesn’t want to imagine how underestimated his measurements are.

You suffered, yes, but all of that happened in the past.

Asking you what exactly hurts and what makes it worse won’t help his guilt at all.

Now that he can help you, he won’t do anything but.

Being who he is and liking what he likes, he has a trustworthy list of mattresses and pillows that he doesn’t hesitate to share with you.

He knows better than anybody else what a well-rested body can do to the mind and, although it may not help much, he insists you try at least once.

Going shopping for something like this and doing it with him is a double-edged sword; while he couldn’t be a better critic, there’s also the possibility of him falling asleep on one of the mattresses on display.

And you know perfectly well you aren’t going to be the one dragging him back home, so inviting Beel as well is always the best choice; especially since you can hang out after shopping knowing that you will have your purchase delivered.

If you still feel like you aren’t getting any rest, he will use a little bit of his magic to make you fall asleep more easily without waking up in discomfort.

.

.

Taglist: @hatchers-hoard @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[highvern]

adamas et aurum

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: gross domestic fluff, boyfriend mingyu

Length: ~1.7k

Note: more Drunk Goggles couple bc im beating a dead horse. idk why i do this to myself :) crying :) in :) the :) club :)

read more here

“You owe me a kiss.”

“Oh, do I?”

Mingyu huffs, face covered in sweat, backwards hat matting his hair to his skull, bare chest rose-colored from the fiery sun and swampy humidity. You’ve both spent all morning moving boxes to and fro so he’s about two seconds away from laying down on the floor for a much needed nap. When it came to heavier stuff, Mingyu insisted you stay and start unpacking the necessities so the apartment would at least be somewhat functional around all the mess. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that his shredded patience couldn’t handle any more of your help. Thank god some of the guys are coming over tomorrow to help him with the furniture.

Because of his chivalry, you’ve stayed cool in the AC, humming to the music blasting from a speaker in the kitchen as you work to make the new space a home. All the while Mingyu slaves away to lug in stuff he doesn’t remember either of you owning. 

“Boyfriend tax.”

“Ahhhh,” you nod. 

Jumping up on your toes, you deliver a cartoonishly wet smack on his lips as a thank you for his hard word.

“How’s it going?”

“Bathroom is mostly unpacked but we need to get some bins to organize under the sink. Oh! And the beds made too!” You chirp, turning back to your task of wiping out the cabinets and drawers of your new kitchen. “If you wanna wash up and lay down, I’ll order something to eat.”

“You’re the best.” he sighs, stepping into the space behind you, chest against your back, face tucked into the curve of your shoulder, hands grasping the edge of the counter on each side of your hips. 

“My man works hard, gotta take care of him.” You praise, twisting your neck to drop a kiss to his temple causing you to get a whiff of his sweat.

“Now go shower, you stink.” 

“Hey!” Mingyu objects, face moving over your shoulder so he can look at you. “I’m sorry I’ve been roleplaying as your hot shirtless mover for the last two hours. Bust my butt and this is how you thank me?”

Turning to face him, you tangle your arms around his neck, linking your hands behind his head and pulling him into a bear hug. His palms slide around the sensitive skin of your back, pulling you closer as your shirt sticks to his sweaty chest uncomfortably where you press together. But that doesn’t matter right now. Right now, you’re together, in the new apartment you share, starting the next chapter of your lives.

“Thank you, Mingyu. I love you.” You whisper into his collarbone.

“Damn right.” He mumbles, tilting his head down to drop a sweet peck to your mouth, arms giving a tight squeeze before swatting at your ass as he turns towards the bedroom.

“Hey!”

“Boyfriend tax!” He calls over his shoulder, amusement bubbling in his voice.

Your eyes trail after him, heart swelling as it begins to fully register what you’ve done. He’s here and his name is on the lease next to yours; your matching keys hanging by the door, assigned parking spots downstairs next to each other. Mingyu just went into your shared bedroom, to take a shower in your shared bathroom, and tonight you’ll curl up beside him in your shared bed.

Wonwoo moving in with his girlfriend has been the catalyst for the much needed conversation. Mingyu had essentially been living out of your apartment for months already, only returning to his own place every few days for fresh clothes or to see his friend. When his roommate told him he was planning to move out after their lease ended in four months you simply scoffed at his distress about where to live. 

“You basically live with me anyway.” You mumbled, not thinking about what the statement implied.

“I—,” he gapes. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I just mean, you already stay here so much anyway.” You grumble, suddenly feeling awkward in his hold.

“Can you just ask me nicely?” He whines. “I wanna be romanced.”

Humoring him, you slide to the floor in front of the couch you two had been draped across. Dropping to one knee, you cup your hands together in a makeshift box like you’re proposing. Your eyes round and brows raise, attempting and failing to give him an earnest expression.

“Kim Mingyu, love of my life, future father of my children, bane of my existence. Will you do me the honor of moving in with me?”

“Bain of your existence?”

“Focus.” You snap your fingers. “Will you move in with me?”

“Duh,” he beams, tackling you to the ground and snaring you in a bear hug as you squeal in delight.

Your friends had warned you about signing a lease together; that no matter how many nights Mingyu stays at your apartment (twenty three in a row is his record), when you call the same place home things will be different. And all of his bad habits won’t change just because he’s living with his girlfriend. If anything they may get worse because it's his home now too and he’s no longer a long staying guest.

You already knew that Mingyu tends to leave the seat up after using the bathroom, and will collapse with laughter if you fall in; that he insists on burying his cold feet under your butt when sitting on the couch, occasionally wiggling his toes just to piss you off; and how he will put the carton of milk back in the fridge even if there's only a drop left no matter how many threats against his person you make.

But Mingyu also sets his alarm ten minutes earlier than needed so he can hold you in bed before starting the day, basking in each others drowsy warmth before braving the world outside the sheets; he frequently insists you sit between his legs on the floor and let him dry your hair after you shower, gently combing his fingers through it, sometimes twisting the locks into messy braids or buns with his clumsy hands; how he’ll surprise you with a candle light dinner, insisting you both dress up even though your sitting at the kitchen table on a Tuesday eating reheated leftovers, just because he can.

No matter how annoying his bad habits are, the good ones are worth their weight and more in gold.

A shockingly girlish shriek shatters your daydream.

Hightailing it to the bathroom, you spot your stark naked boyfriend through the plastic of the shower liner, quivering in the corner of the stall like a leaf blowing in the wind. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Its fucking hot!” He cries, over his shoulder, trying to shield his body from the spray by curling into the tiled wall.

Heaving a sigh of relief and annoyance, you can’t help rolling your eyes as you step towards the front of the tub and twist the faucet, adjusting to a cooler temperature for him so he doesn’t have to stick his arm through the scalding rain.

“Big baby,” you grumble before heading back to the kitchen.

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to!”

-

Mingyu shuffles into the bedroom, towel draped low on his waist, beads of water falling from his hair to his collarbone as he looks for the duffle bag he packed with clothes for the next few days; but the scene before him stops him in his tracks. The sun from the window casts the room in a buttery yellow, beams of light dappling your figure sprawled on the bed, mouth open slightly and hair a mess around your face. He leans a shoulder against the door frame, tired eyes full of love and mouth lifted in a gentle smile as his soulmate snores quietly a few feet away.

When you asked if he wanted to move in together, Mingyu lacked the self control needed to stop from jumping up and screeching like a kid in a candy store. The thought of living with his favorite person in the world had his heart tremble and his palms sweat. Despite all the oddities and quirks he learned about you in the past two years of dating, almost everyone warned him that you can’t really know someone till you live with them. He thinks the months before today had prepared him for the inevitable annoyances you two would face.

He’s accepted that you leave hair on the walls of the shower that eventually clog the drain, pooling water around his feet when he hops in the stall before work; how you push around takeout boxes and spoiled produce in the fridge for days instead of throwing them out; and that piles of unfolded laundry will sit on the edge of the couch for days on end until one day the planets align and you decide to re-organize your entire closet after folding the wrinkle garments.

Mingyu accepts all of those things because he also knows you like to surprise him by grabbing all the ingredients for a recipe he mentions wanting to try in passing, happily volunteering to be his sous chef and taste tester, insisting you both don the couple aprons his mom got you for Christmas; that when he isn’t feeling well you’ll scratch his back until he falls asleep with his cheek squished on your stomach while you fret over him; how you always wait up for him when he gets ready for bed, glazed eyes opening every few minutes to blink lazily, soft breath tickling the skin between his shoulder blades where your head lays only interrupted by an occasional sleepy kiss on his spine while he brushes his teeth.

His friends mentioned all the ways moving in together will change the way you see each other. But in the two years you’ve been dating, each time your relationship changed it's been for the better. When you two started hanging out on your own and he found his opinion on you shifting completely. When you admitted you liked each other and he learned you were a lot braver than he was. When you two fought for the first time and he realized that as brave as you were, you weren’t invincible. When he said he loved you for the first time by accident and discovered you were just as in this as he was. All the fights that challenged you to understand each other better, the struggles that strained your ability to take care of one another; all of it had changed your relationship but pressure makes a diamond.

A lot like the one he plans to give you when he asks if you want to change your relationship again one day.

[gonetoforks]

Introducing; Yuichi Usagi-Cuddles!

There’s a slight typo in his basic character bio, (first, grey image) other than “yuich,” his family in America lives in the part of the hidden city under Jersey. He lives in Jersey. He’s a Jersian. So in terms of leosagi, it’s gonna be an enemies-to-lovers comedy-of-errors muahahahaha!!

More (a LOT more) info about him as his own guy under the cutoff :D ⬇️

Basically; He’s a silly guy! I feel like his kinda buffoonish, embarrassing personality in canon is simultaneously PERFECT for Rise’s writing style & grievously underrated in fanon depictions. So he’s this clownish type of character, haha.

Okay, time to go hyperfixation mode.

Adhd & his stubborn attitude;

He has ADHD! Executive function issues makes it hard for him to start tasks & manage himself, so he relies on his teams (the Mad Dogs when he’s training & the Rise equivalent to his canon friend group on his own time) to not only instruct him, but also hold him accountable & keep him on task. He’s body-doubling without even realizing it.

Although, he resents the things he does to accommodate his disability. He doesn’t notice that doing the things he does genuinely helps or why so he thinks he’s using them as a crutch because of incompetence. Every time he gets stubborn and ignores the things he needs to do, he crashes and burns. When he was new in town with no teacher & no friends who liked martial arts, he became a huge sad sack until the kraang invasion.

His character arc is about being able to rely on other people & accommodations. That relying on a bit more help than other people doesn’t make you incompetent, choosing to seek out the support you need so you can do your best is the true mature thing to do. I was inspired by canon Yuichi’s struggles with paying attention and Rise’s themes of cooperation. (& also my own experience with adhd and learning with executive function issues & junk)

Relationships w/ the turtles;

The Mad Dogs agree to let him like, intern with them? So he can see what it’s like to be a vigilante, they offer him advice and they occasionally go on low to mid-tier missions with his help. They take him on cause they think more heroes and allies out there, the less work they have to do haha. Also, one of the writers mentioned a season 3 would have them adjusting to being ~official heroes,~ I think this would be them trying to be “real.”

He’s closest friends with Mikey out of the whole group! (Adhd solidarity) Then it goes Donnie -> Raph -> and finally Leo (for now muahaha)

I tried to give Leosagi an interesting dynamic with constructing his character like this; They have similar insecurities from drawing self-worth from technical capabilities that they can develop past together, but Leo is clever and calculating about it vs Yuichi being rash and impulsive. So like smart x stupid but they’re the same actually.

His Family in Jersey;

He speaks english fluently because he’s visited his American family frequently his whole life, they’re very close. He has an accent though since he mainly speaks Japanese.

I haven’t fleshed out this concept enough, but I think members of his jersey/Cuddles half of the family would be spoofs of characters from the original yojimbo comics, implied to be reincarnations? Except Miyamoto ofc. (i’ll explain later..)

Reusing the ninja orphans plotline from the original show, his family utilizes their cute appearances to run an orphanage too. They wonder why this Chizu lady is constantly showing up with unhoused children, but they’re just grateful they’re safe now.

Everyone in his family HATES Mrs. Cuddles, they all think she’s in prison and are happy about it. She might’ve given him that scratch on his face.

Additional;

He is gay.

Thank you for your time.

[celestialholz]

Be still made, my beloved crossbow (or 'let's talk about Durge's other other weapon... and maybe a bit about Stillmaker too')

You've read this post, friends. You know it's true, I know it's true. (And it's bloody beautiful by the way, lovely job @darkurgediaries.)

But wait, there's more.

Let's have a quick chat about the Hellfire Engine Crossbow, because if Stillmaker is Durge's blade from Gortash, this is Durge's side-bitch from him... or it was meant to be, anyway. Man never quite got around to piecing it all together.

Okay, let's start with er... I mean look at it. It's white, has a phoenix head on it - a creature that symbolises resurrection, rebirth and immortality, how very Durge, and is also associated with sun gods when Gortash is this easy to turn into a Lathanderan and that guy brings light to each new day - and it's also embossed with Gortash and the Steel Watch's black and gold motif.

And then you take a mechanical look at it and... hang on.

What are you doing here, Lightning Arrow? The Steel Watch don't have Lightning Arrow, but you know who does have Lightning Arrow? Rangers - archery experts, usually - at level nine and up. And who can we consider that's on level nine and is really good at archery?

And who can we consider who might run out of lightning-basic magic in the heat of battle; who is white, and has a theme of rebirth either by rejecting Daddy Bhaal outright or embracing them anew, and knows a sun-coded Radiant guy, and may once have had business in the Foundry?

Well hello The Dark Urge Vanilla Edition, our old spicy friend. There's also the lovely addition of Reposition Malefactor - Lightning Arrow, grab, Stillmaker stab. Classic Baldurian efficiency.

You know what kills me about Gortash's Radiant coding and Durge's Lightning? The first thing you see of lightning is its flash, its brilliance, and the second thing you see is its destruction. The light isn't the part that hurts you, but it's inextricably linked to the thing itself, just as you can't have the destruction without the light. Symbiosis. Gortash could have been thunder-coded, but... no. Thunder isn't destructive, not usually. It doesn't happen at the same time in the storm.

It's not symbiotic... it's not equal.

... Yeah no, I'm fine, not emotional at all. No sir, could not be me. Despite being level nine too, Gortash doesn't have Lightning Arrow. Why would you need lightning, when your beloved has it in their veins, when you've made them a crossbow specifically for it? You just bring the 'light' part, don't you?

Symbiosis. Peace and love on planet Faerûn. Anyway...

If we must consider the application of Lightning Arrow as a helpful aid to the depleted Storm Sorceror, we should probably consider Stillmaker's equivalent.

Hold Person. Hold. Person. Which, yes - very useful bit of utility for our lovely Durge to have, 100% - but then you consider the fifteen separate dimensions of romantic overtones in Durgetash and you just can't help but feel: Hold Person. It's a bloody hug. It's support. He's made it easier for you to slaughter people, which at least used to be your favourite thing to do.

So Gortash has A. made your murdering life much more fun because you can savour the kill and B. made sure you can still kill from a distance if anyone else happens to be around and you're tired.

What a complete fucking simp. 🥺❤

On the subject of Stillmaker in fact, much as the Fabricated Arbalest to the Hellfire Engine, it's rather different to Durge's main dagger, Bloodthirst.

This is pure function. Made to please Papa in the most gruesome way possible, whichever hand you feel like using to wield it.

Whereas Stillmaker... it's got an attached hug. It's got a wavy blade, perfect for the task of slicing and dicing - one that's very difficult to forge, that must have taken time and care.

... Well. Must have taken a mortal time and care. Because lest we forget, it's not the only wavy blade Durge owns.

... Seriously, Larian. How are you going to make both of them wavy. I'm on your ceiling fans.

It's two separate dimensions to Durge's life, in two blades with the same nastiness to them - absolute utility, versus actual care.

This is literally more intricate than the thing presumably given by a god. That's going to tear like a bitch, truly. And it's even got Bhaal's delightful countenance up front and centre. What was that devnote, about convincing the child of a god that they're not a monster? Mm...

Oh, I don't know. It's almost like, for a while anyway, Durge's connection to Gortash was more important than the one to their father. Maybe they wrote something about that very thing, in fact. Imagine. 🥲

I'd like to take this opportunity to also note the very violent and Thunder-mentioning text attached to the Hellfire Engine...

... And the fact it's found in three parts, because y'know, Dead Three.

There's only one minor flaw in this whole thing, really. One teensy little tiny problematic detail.

Sorcerors, unlike Gortash, can't use Heavy Crossbows.

... But, then, they can't use shortswords either.

I'll let you be the judge, shall I?

[perpetual-fandom-brainrot]

Temporary Relocation Prologue/Ch. 1

This fic is based on this drabble Basic premise: Reader got an experimental surgery and is being relocated to a military base with more specialized medical supplies to help recovery while on medical leave, and will temporarily help with missions to ensure success after.

It was some kind of new experimental technology. You were one of only a few hundred who had the privilege of getting the opportunity. When they'd called, you'd needed to request for the information to be mailed because there was so much of it. "Instinctual Prosthetics" was what they had decided to name the project. It was supposed to help military combatants, granting an animalistic advantage of some kind on the battlefield. They would synthesize physical attributes of the target animal, you couldn't wrap your head around how, and intertwine the prosthetics and artificial nerves with your body's existing nervous system. Most info beyond that was disclosed to you as "need-to-know," which told you literally nothing you felt you needed to know.

Nonetheless, you were too intrigued- and too attached to the payout you'd get for using yourself as an experiment vessel- to say no. That was how you ended up on a helicopter with a man who'd introduced himself to you as Captain John Price, with your newfound cat ears and tail still extremely sensitive to everything around them. Every time the aircraft jostled, you found yourself flinching, and every time the noise changed you wished you could press your ears to your head to make it stop. If only it wasn't too dangerous to take off those headphones, which had been specially made for you. You didn't even want to think about what the violent whirs of the overhead blades would sound like without the protection they gave.

"Touchdown in five," the pilot called back to the two of you. You barely registered it until you heard Captain Price giving a comment saying the pilot's communication went over. "This team won't be anything like what you're used to, soldier. Much more specialized, much better materials to handle your... unique recovery circumstances." The captain's explanation didn't do much to ease your nerves, but you found yourself nodding as though it did. As though it held any clues of what you'd see on Task Force 141's base. "The rest of the force should be meeting us when we land," he continued. "I expect you'll get acquainted with them over your time here." The words gained another absent nod from you. Until the heli touched down, you found your brain wandering to how this all happened in the first place.

"It's an experimental procedure," the woman over the phone explained. You could hear pages flipping in the background of her mic, "we're only offering it to a few hundred soldiers to see how it takes. There's a wide range of people who chose to go in already." Her explanation only served as further confusion.

"I... I still don't understand," you mumbled before taking a sip of your coffee, "why was I selected?" The line was tense with silence for what you wish was a small beat, before the woman sighed.

"I only know what I'm telling you, and I'm only allowed to tell you what I know." Her gentle tone was meant to be reassuring, but right then it was just pissing you off. You were going to potentially lose critical brain functions if this went wrong, and it was still on a need-to-know? Fucking government. "There is one upside, though," she spoke tentatively now, "since this is a voluntary experiment, they're offering you compensation."

"Compensation?" The word echoed off of your tongue almost as if it was alien. "I'm sorry, I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around all of this."

"I have permission to make exactly one hard copy of this information and mail it to you. Would you like me to file the request for it?"

"Yes, please."

It hadn't felt like too long since that phone call. It probably hadn't been, if you were willing to compare hours to seconds. It had only been a few weeks since you were wheeled out of the surgery room, informed of the expected enhancements with your balance and hearing, and then immediately told about the orders for your relocation. You'd be temporarily occupying the base of a specialized and extremely classified task force, one you were sure your own generals themselves had never heard of. A few weeks since that tail was surgically implanted at the back of your spine and connected to your main nerve pathways, a few weeks since the nurses and doctors taking care of you started looking at you funny when you covered your ears from things they couldn't hear.

The harsh jostle of the helicopter landing, and the ensuing pins and needles from your still sore tail, broke you out of your trance. You took a deep breath as you stood up and removed the headphones, flinching at the more detailed sounds you knew no one else could hear, and looked up to see Captain Price awaiting your company to exit the aircraft.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

Not at all, you think, but give a verbal, "affirmative, Captain." Price doesn't walk off of the helicopter until he sees you next to him, where a small group of men wait, presumably for the two of you, in a semicircle. "So... this is the team?" You ask quietly, awkwardly, before they've noticed you. Price chuckles to himself before calling out to the group.

"Soldiers," his voice carries over the now fading whirs of the helicopter, "meet our new temporary recruit. After the medical recovery period ends, you'll all be working together out on the field. I expect you all to make good use of the remaining leave time." Nobody had to ask to know what Price meant. You'd all be stopping bullets and bombs for each other soon enough, probably too soon. He wanted a team that knew how to work together.

"What's with the cat ears?" A rough British accent calls. Your eyes flick to the source, a tall and muscular man wearing a skull mask. Your peripherals catch everyone else's eyes immediately flying to the top of your head while you make brief eye contact with the man. Your breath catches in your throat when you open your mouth to respond.

"This is the experimental procedure you were briefed about," Price stated. "I expect you all to treat this like any other new recruit. If I hear of any issues, you will be dealing with Shepherd." A collective groan came from the group as Price walked towards a gathering of buildings. Who?

"Aye Ghost, don't want them to make you a kitty cat, eh? Ya might end up too cute to fight that way," another man, a Scotsman with striking blue eyes and a mohawk, commented.

"A word, sergeant MacTavish," the Brit barked before walking into a nearby building. The Scot followed him without asking questions. You just watched the two in a daze, not sure what to make of the scene.

"What was that?" The question came from your mouth carefully.

"Don't mind them," another man, the only one left now, spoke up. He had umber skin that looked smooth, not as big of a build as the Brit but you had no doubt just as strong. "The sergeant's probably getting his fair share for talking to the lieutenant like that." As he talked, you noted he's probably better for agility. He took a step towards you and held out his hand, "I'm Kyle Garrick, Gaz on the field."

"Y/n L/n," you took a step to close the gap and firmly shook his hand. "Nice to meet you Gaz! Who are the other two? The sergeant and you said the lieutenant?"

Gaz laughed a little, the smile staying as he spoke, "the angry one in the mask, the lieutenant, is Ghost, and the Scot you saw messing with him is my fellow sergeant. His name's Soap. Those two are always at each other's throats. Bet you'll get used to it as you stay here," he took a step back after letting go of your hand. Gaz was still smiling, "and I'm assuming you know Price. There's others, but they're out on assignments if they're not stuck in the medical quarters recovering."

"Well, in that case, mind showing me the medical quarters? I'm due for an initial check-up after my briefing on the team. Pretty sure you just gave that to me."

Gaz turned and waved you on from behind, "follow me!" He called. You jogged to catch up, looking around and taking every detail in while gazing at the structures around you. Brief explanations of barracks, small hangars, different quarters and offices, the main canteen building as you passed it, everything you needed to know about getting around the base and what you need. Eventually, a building just as plain as the rest of them save for a red cross came into view. The medical quarters, you regarded it with internal relief. Your ears and spine were starting to ache again.

You even forgot to thank Gaz as you hurried in, leaving him to laugh to himself. You were definitely something. The base- the force- was going to enjoy having you.

Read the next chapter here

[actuallyadhd]

Why do my ADHD meds only help in making me able to get up every morning, instead of actually doing something for my ADHD symptoms?

After Ritalin didn't work at all, my psychiatrist put me on Vyvanse (50mg). I've been taking it for at least two years now, and it helped me beyond belief. But not in a 'aiding in concentration' way, instead, the only thing they do is not letting me go into a catatonic state all day.

Whenever I'm off my meds, I return to the same condition I was in before starting them: I can barely get up. It's a fatigue so intense I literally cannot do anything but the very basic, let alone study. I honestly cannot tell you how I survived so many years without it.

Yet, no matter how much they improve my quality of life (and though my sensory issues got more manageable), they don't do anything to aid in my studies. I still cannot focus on tasks, nor manage my hyperactivity (be it in a physical or mental level). I still get executive dysfunction, talk too much and too loud, can't sit still, have no restraint or self-control and am basically still the same inattentive, agitated person I always was. Am I just in a too-low dose, or there's something else wrong with me?

(Crossposted from Reddit. Sorry if this is too long, and feel free to take as long as you need to answer this!)

Sent December 8, 2023

There are a lot of different reasons this may be happening, and the first one that comes to mind is that your dose may be too low.

There is another aspect that's important, and that is the need to manage your expectations.

Medication doesn't make all of your ADHD symptoms go away. It doesn't make you neurotypical. It doesn't magically give you the skills you never learned due to ADHD stuff.

It sounds like you have quite severe ADHD (hi! Same here!), which makes every single little thing harder. But here's the Really Simplified Explanation about how meds help.

Let's say that a person's overall functioning can be rated on a scale of 1-10, where 1 is "completely neurotypical" and 10 is "completely non-functional".

Given this, your unmedicated ADHD is at a 7 or 8, and it sounds like your medication is pulling you to around a 5, or maybe a 4. This sounds awful, but what it does is give you the ability to actually learn the skills you need so that you stand a chance of being slightly more functional when you're off your meds.

The other part of this is that the Big Four (sleep, diet, exercise, & stress) also affect your functioning, and if any of them is out of whack then your medication won't be able to help as much. So having something screwing with you may put you at a 9, and then your meds will only be able to get you to a 6.

Things that may help with the issues you've listed here include active breaks, fidget toys, and lots of routines. We have lots of information about all of these here, but if you want specific information about any of it please feel free to ask.

Followers, what do you think about this situation? Do you have any advice?

-J

[ovaruling]

i found this very interesting, especially as a woman who has cheated death several times, came away from it disabled, and is now fiercely determined to live independently into old age, child-free (in this case, the relevance of that being the context of having no children to assist me with care or basic function as i age).

however, this is also important for all women, because being able to carry fitness (and by fitness i refer to the ability to complete everyday tasks and basic mobility without extreme difficulty or injury) into old age is a topic that affects us as a sex with some growing urgency.

statistically, we know (or should, by now) that women cannot depend on male partners/family members to care for us in times of illness or crisis, and that also goes for caring for us as we age. they leave. they shirk. they hope we’ll just die and relieve them of the burden of caring for us.

and even if male partners are not a factor, aging women ARE seen as a burden–to our families, to our friends, to our loved ones, to our doctors, to our governments, to our societies. having children or a partner or family members or friends does not necessarily guarantee that they will assist you in your old age.

so it is of utmost importance that we as women educate ourselves on how to stay as physically independent as possible as we age. here is an excerpt of the article that describes why i think this is so important:

"Think of the Centenarian Decathlon as the 10 most important physical tasks you will want to be able to do for the rest of your life. Some items on the list resemble actual athletic events, while some are closer to activities of daily living, and still others might reflect your own personal interests. I find it useful because it helps us visualize, with great precision, exactly what kind of fitness we need to build and maintain as we get older. It creates a template for our training.

I start by presenting my patients with a long list of physical tasks that might include some of the following:

1. Hike 1.5 miles on a hilly trail. 2. Get up off the floor under your own power, using a maximum of one arm for support. 3. Pick up a young child from the floor. 4. Carry two 5-pound bags of groceries for five blocks. 5. Lift a 20-pound suitcase into the overhead compartment of a plane. 6. Balance on one leg for 30 seconds, eyes open. (Bonus points: eyes closed, 15 seconds.) 7. Have sex. 8. Climb four flights of stairs in three minutes. 9. Open a jar. 10. Do 30 consecutive jump-rope skips.

The full list is much longer, with more than 50 different items, but you get the idea. Once they’ve read it, I ask them to please select which of these tasks they want to be able to perform in their ninth, or better yet 10th, decade. Which ones do they choose?

All of them, typically. They want to be able to hike a mile and a half, or carry their own groceries, or pick up a great-grandchild, or get up if they fall down. Or play 18 holes of golf, or open a jar, or fly somewhere on a plane. Of course they do.

That’s great, I say. You’ll make that kid’s day when you pick her up like that. But now let’s do a little math. Let’s say the kid weighs 25 or 30 pounds. That’s basically the same as doing a squat while holding a 30-pound dumbbell in front of you (i.e., a goblet squat). Can you do that now, at age 40? Most likely. But now let’s look into the future. Over the next 30 or 40 years, your muscle strength will decline by about 8 to 17 percent per decade—accelerating as time goes on. So if you want to pick up that 30-pound grandkid or great-grandkid when you’re 80, you’re going to have to be able to lift 50 to 55 pounds now. Without hurting yourself. Can you do that?

I press the issue. You also want to be able to hike on a hilly trail? To do that comfortably requires a VO2 max of roughly 30 ml/kg/min. Let’s take a look at the results of your latest VO2 max test—and guess what, you only scored a 30. You’re average for your age, but I’m afraid that’s not good enough, because your VO2 max is also going to decline. So you can pull it off now, but you likely won’t be able to do it when you’re older.

On it goes. To lift a 20-pound suitcase overhead when you are older means lifting 40 or 50 pounds now. To be able to climb four flights of stairs in your 80s means you should be able to pretty much sprint up those same stairs today. In every case, you need to be doing much more now, to armor yourself against the natural and precipitous decline in strength and aerobic capacity that you will undergo as you age.

Eventually, my patients get it. Together, we come up with a list of 10 or 15 events in their personal Centenarian Decathlon, representing their goals for their later decades. This then determines how they should be training. In the end, most people’s Centenarian Decathlons will probably overlap to a degree. Someone who enjoys stand-up paddleboarding, for example, would perhaps choose “events” focused around building core and cross-body strength. But she will likely be training the same muscle groups as I am doing for archery, and maintaining a similar degree of stamina and balance.

The Centenarian Decathlon is ambitious, no question. A 90-year-old who is even able to board a plane under her own power, let alone hoist a carry-on bag, is doing extremely well. But there is a method to the madness. These individual tasks are not out of reach. There are octogenarians, nonagenarians, and even centenarians right now who are running marathons, racing bicycles, lifting weights, flying airplanes, jumping out of airplanes, skiing the Rocky Mountains, competing in actual decathlons, and doing all sorts of other amazing things. So all these events are within the realm of possibility."

[noirs-pages]

Lucifer 2

Summary: Lucifer wants to get along better with you and you see that. So, to show that you appreciate his attempts, you keep him company while he gets himself drunk off his wine. Unfortunately, Lucifer misreads your signals and makes an unwanted advance.

(Just me being my aro/ace self. Basically a case of Lucifer making an assumption, acting on that assumption and it backfires horribly.)

Lucifer was someone you could only tolerate on a good day. He isn’t a bad person by all means. He meets the low low standard of not actively wanting your death, but the little things he does, the small demands he makes of you, they irritate you in such a way that makes you want to avoid him altogether.

Lucifer dropped a pen and he asked you to pick it up. There’s a book too far away and he asked you to get it for him. There are papers that need to be taken to the student council room and he asked you to take them there. You wouldn’t have minded doing these small things. They’re menial tasks that you can easily forget.

But then you began to truly understand him. By the time he asked you to wash his utensils after finishing his dinner, you understood that Lucifer never truly asked for anything. They’re demands wrapped in politeness, things he expected you to fulfill without question, because it fed his pride to have someone at his beck and call, no matter how small and insignificant the task may be.

You remember Mammon calling you paranoid when you told him these things, because understanding the subtly of intentions behind too-small actions was never his calling. But, it took a simple sigh for Mammon to stew in his brain for a little bit to see your point.

Either way, you avoided Lucifer when you could and it took weaponizing Diavolo’s favor towards you for Lucifer to start reigning in his pride just the slightest bit. Diavolo wanted to see you do your human things while Lucifer wanted to refine you to his specifications. Obviously, Diavolo was going to win out and Lucifer had to concede.

And it seems that that particular event actually stuck with Lucifer, because when he would catch himself slipping into old habits, he would clear his throat and either help you out or do these tiny tasks himself. He stopped trying to “perfect” you in those small ways.

Honestly, it wouldn’t mean much to you if it weren’t for the fact that were no other eyes beyond just you and Lucifer. This attempt at trying to treat you like an equal stretched beyond the gazes of everyone else.

So when Lucifer drunkenly texted you near the middle of the night for some company, you figured why not. The both of you are getting along better. You can even say he’s your friend by this point in time. Besides, you’re at that point where you do want to get to know him better.

That and it would probably be pretty fun to see drunk Lucifer in action.

“… and wouldn’t you know it, he came at full sprint. Without a single article of clothing on him,” Lucifer chuckled, pushing his hair back from his flushed face, “Mammon was lucky nobody saw him.”

You snorted, swirling the wine in your glass even though you weren’t going to drink it, “That’s evil, Lucifer.”

“It’s of no fault of my own that my phone misspelled ‘witches’ with ‘riches.’”

“But you didn’t correct it,” you put the glass down and picked up your own phone, wanting some music to fill this quiet air.

“That I didn’t.” Lucifer further slumped into his chair, digging his fingers into his tie before pulling it off.

You found an interesting pick and played some modern classical music. You can save your weirder picks for later. The swell of strings and light presses of piano keys had Lucifer tapping his finger.

Just as you were about to soak in the atmosphere, Lucifer stumbled to his feet.

“Have you ever danced?” Lucifer almost tripped backwards but caught the arms of the chair in time.

“Depends on the dance,” you leaned forward, smiling at this too drunk to function demon.

“Do you want to dance?” Even when you know his head must be swimming, Lucifer tried to be suave and held out his hand. He would’ve tipped forward had you not caught his palm.

“Might as well,” you stood up just to support him, letting him rest most of his weight on you, “Here, let me show you something fun.”

And so you pulled him into a dumb little jiggle of a dance that did not suit the music in the least. Just loud steps, awkward swinging of the arms, the kind of dances you’d do as a kid when coordination and social awareness was just not a thing.

It got Lucifer laughing and you couldn’t help your own chuckles.

Lucifer eventually fell into your arms, too drunk to properly stand and you adjusted his head on your shoulder.

“Whoa there,” you patted his back, guiding the both of you to your knees so you don’t fall, “I think you had enough wine for the night.”

“Hmm,” Lucifer leaned forward, hooking his arms under your shoulders for a hug. You let him. You didn’t mind giving hugs at all.

You let your hands lazily rest on his spine, just letting him be in the moment since you’re pretty sure this man hasn’t had a hug in a while. You’ll let him have this since he probably won’t ask again when he’s sober.

Lucifer further buried himself into your neck and you shifted your weight so your weren’t on your knees. He took a deep breath in and when his fingers trailed down and grabbed at your waist did you stiffen up.

For a moment, you thought you were misunderstanding him, that you were too paranoid and that this was some sensual affection he wanted, nothing more. But then he snuggled deeper, pressed his lips up your neck and rubbed his thumbs over your ribs.

It was a knee-jerk reaction, shoving him away and onto the carpet away from you like that. Honestly, this wasn’t the first time you had your waist grabbed like that by the other brothers in this house. Beelzebub pretty much did that all the time but you knew him. He never meant anything more than that. He’s just a naturally affectionate guy that likes some sensual affection as well.

Lucifer, however, was a different story. Face holding, hand caressing, getting lost in the smell of skin, waist grabbing, all those things aren’t just actions that he would do casually. He places meaning to just about everything he does, as he puts too much effort in refining himself.

Lucifer rose from the floor, hair a mess but eyes wide with surprise and a shocking amount of clarity.

“… sorry,” you murmured as you got up. You don’t want to think deeper on this. You just want to attribute this to him being too drunk and that’s it. There’s nothing hidden in him, nothing that he’s shoving down, no fantasies that he wants to come true. Any and all softness that he’s been showing is because he wants to be your friend and nothing more.

Because if there is more, then he’d have to find out how disgusted you are by that. And you don’t want him to find fault in himself just because that’s how you react. You don’t want to ruin this already fragile friendship.

“It seems…” Lucifer started when you helped him up and back into the chair, “I lost myself a bit there.”

“You did, but don't worry about it, okay?” you backed away, skin unable to stand the thought of touching anything. You need to be in bed, away from here. “Good night.”

And Lucifer didn’t stop you. Hopefully you all will forget this night in the morning.

[cripplecharacters]

Do you have an idea of disability as part of redemption arc ? Let's say, I have a character who's a professional executioner, from a dynasty of professional executioners, XVIIIth century. He was a real person, who eventually became paraplegic. Since, I want, for my historical novel to redeem him...He started torturing people at fourteen, maybe younger, and killed for the first time at age 18. He's 33 when the story started, and became hemiplegic/paraplegic (documentation isn't clear on this) at age 35, and was in a social circle of executioners and torturers since birth. Realistically, maybe, he would have little to no sense of belonging beyond that of executioner, unless maybe as head of house, which is again, liked to his position as executioner. He's a third class citizen, but an absurdly wealthy one, and no longer being able-bodied doesn't mean he can stop depending on the executioner buisness, it just means his son has to start killing at 15.

How do you think a man who worked for 13 years as master executioner of Paris, but officially because one at age 7, insuring his wealth but also the envy of his colleagues, would cope with being hemiplegic/paraplegic. Also, one of his potencial rivals was a man who in all likelyhood beated his mother, and probably him and his brother when they were at least teenagers. That master executioner was aged 35 when he lost his mobility to a stroke. The Mémoires of the Sanson family also described him a proud piller of his community, delivering charitable medical care to those in needs and one who enjoyed rough horse riding.

Thank you for your ask! This sounds like a case of redemption through disability, which is a trope that should be avoided. A disabled character can get redeemed, but it should be entirely separate from their disability.

Along with his disability not redeeming him, you should also make sure it doesn’t make him spiteful or cruel. Basically the disability should change what he can physically do, not who he is.

As for the second part of the ask, I first want to note none of our mods are parapalegic/hemiplegic, so we can’t speak for coping with these disabilities specifically. I’d recommend looking for first hand accounts of people with these conditions, or preferably seeing if you can find someone with them to ask or act as a sensitivity reader.

I don’t know much about 18th century French medicine, but physical & occupational therapy will be important as he re-learns tasks that were once easy and figure out ways to complete tasks he can no longer do. Studies show horseback riding can help stroke survivors with their recovery, though he’ll need to ride gently at first.

Have a nice day!

Mod Rot

I just want to say real quick, adding on to the case of redemption through disability, that the reason we want to avoid it is because moralizing disability is something that very much happens to real alive people every day.

Tying disability to morality often is 'disability is a moral failure' type of situation, but another way it affects people is the assumption that 'suffering' through a disability somehow makes you more 'pure' or 'better.' Like when you see some grumpy mean character get an injury and Suddenly They Understand Hardships of Others and they become a better person — sort of a mix between 'disability as punishment' and 'disabled people are innocent.'

This kind of seems like what you're doing here. There's a lot of historical fiction out there that uses real life counterparts. If you choose to do that and redeem a bad person, I can't exactly stop you. But I want you to examine why you think what's going to redeem him is the onset of his disability, rather than an understanding of what he did and attempts to do better.

Hope this helps,

– Mod Sparrow

I agree completely with what has been said and just want to add that even disorders like traumatic brain injuries and strokes that can sometimes affect not only function but also personality should not be used as a moral thing, as mentioned earlier. More realistically impacts of a stroke on personality and mood are depression (this was my main symptom even with minimal other symptoms and damage), some impulsiveness or irritability, and mood swings. The disability, again, should not make them a better or worse person inherently.

-Mod Bert

[disastercyborgecho]

SOBB Week #6/7 [All Prompts Lord help me]

Main Prompt: Battle Scars

Alt. Prompt: “Get out of my room!”

Main Prompt: “Don’t avoid the question.”

Alt. Prompt: Getting a Haircut

@summer-of-bad-batch

This one covers Crosshair as he struggles with basic tasks after losing his hand, and his feelings of inadequacy in the shadow of his brothers. Echo understands this deeply, however, and they find solace in their shared experience.

Favorite Bit:

"But here, in the gentle waning light of a room he called his own, the sun turning everything gold on its way below the water, Crosshair couldn’t find anything in himself but pure exhaustion."

Note: I highly recommend listening to 'It's Called: Freefall' by Paris Paloma while reading this, as that is what the title is pulled from, and what I had on repeat as I wrote it <3

Other Note: This piece contains (very) brief mention of past/present s*icide ideation, and past thoughts of s*icide.

I hope you enjoy! This one is very dear to my heart

***

Too Busy Saving Everybody Else To Save Yourself (And you don't want no help)

[alt. titled: Ain't Shit Free But Fallin' Out]

“Kriff.”

The razor slipped again, and Crosshair found himself sporting another knick among countless others across his skull, fingers, and cheeks. With only one hand (and a barely functional one at that) keeping his hair as short as he liked it was turning out to be an issue. And he was Not going to ask his brothers for his help. Or Omega. Absolutely Not. 

He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach that said he was useless now, and that he didn’t want his family to see him struggle with another benign aspect of their lives. No, it was just that he didn’t need any help, so there was no point bothering them for no reason. That was why. 

His hand slipped again and he cursed louder, the sharp side of the razor slicing into the meat of his thumb. Wincing he turned to bandage it over the sink, and his heart dropped.

Echo was standing in the doorway of his room. 

The reg had been away with Rex for a while, and they knew he was returning, but they hadn’t been sure when he was going to make it back. It seemed that moment was now. Echo’s face was soft, but tired, and he stared at Cross where he had shut the door behind him to the sniper’s room. Crosshair stared back, and couldn’t help but catalog how casual Echo managed to look in his movements despite missing an entire arm, managing his day to day tasks with ease one-handed. The pit in Crosshair’s stomach grew.

“I got back an hour or so ago but no one had seen you. Thought I’d come check on you myself.” Echo said. 

His voice was quiet and rough. Understanding. Crosshair wanted to punch him. 

“Get out of my room,” He hissed instead. 

Echo sighed and crossed his arms. “What were you trying to do where you managed to cut yourself so bad?” He nodded with his head to Crosshair’s thumb, which was still dripping blood slowly down his arm. 

“Blast,” Cross turned to finish washing off his hand but he glanced over his shoulder to see that Echo was still standing at the entrance of his room. “Get out.” He said again.

Echo watched as he struggled to slide the faucet on with his elbow, trying to avoid getting blood anywhere. 

“Don’t avoid the question.” The older clone said. “Do you need help with something? You know I’m happy to –” 

Crosshair cut him off again before he could finish, Shutting the sink off with more force than necessary. 

“Shut up.” He ground out. Then he scowled. He was trying to be better. Trying to be kinder, with this second chance at a life. 

“I don’t need anything, I was just trying to cut my hair and this blasted hand keeps…” He sighed and ran his now clean hand down his face, trying to ignore the hole sitting in his throat that made him want to push his brother away. “It’s fine, Echo. Okay? Just. It’s Fine.” 

He turned away again, searching for where he had dropped the razor to finish what he had started way too long ago, but was stopped short when he saw Echo leaning over to pick it up. With deft fingers the man flipped it over his fingers with the practice of someone who handled weapons for years, unafraid of the damage they could do. Crosshair hated that he still struggled to do the dishes and clean himself properly. Echo had lost three times as much as he had, and yet he was whining over a stupid haircut. He looked away in shame, scratching at his neck where stubble itched across his skin in a way he couldn’t stand. 

Echo pulled out the chair by his window and gestured to it. 

“Sit down vod’ika,” he said. 

So Crosshair sat. He told himself it was because he just wanted to get rid of the  annoying hairs on his neck, but he knew when Echo told any of his brothers to do something in that tone, they did it. Even after all those years apart, that hadn’t changed. Crosshair tried not to find comfort in that. 

For the next several minutes, both clones were silent. The birds chirped outside the window, a soft breeze blowing through it, and the sun was just beginning to set over the ocean on the horizon. The soft snick snick of the razor was the only noise in the room, as Echo gently scraped away the hair growing on Crosshair’s neck and head. Crosshair let out slow breath, shuddering as he calmed himself down. This wasn’t so bad. The hole in his stomach was still there, but he could breathe again, and anger didn’t churn in his throat. 

“How long–” He stopped himself. Took another breath. “How long did it take you to be able to do that with one hand?” It came out quiet. He tried to pretend it didn’t come out weak.

Echo chuckled a bit, the gentle cutting motions staying uninterrupted. 

“A long time, vod’ika. I still have trouble with basic tasks sometimes, you know. Chronic pain, too. All that shab.” 

He paused for a moment, and Crosshair wondered why he had stopped. Wanted him to keep going. Craved the warmth of the hands on his skin, reminding him that he was present and breathing. That he was alive.

“Oh.” He answered. He didn’t know what else to say.

Echo’s thumb gently brushed over the textured scarring on the side of Crosshair’s head, avoiding the area carefully with the razor. Crosshair stiffened at the reminder of the injury and all that came after, and he leaned his head away a bit. Echo’s hand slowly pulled away, and as they both breathed carefully together in the silence, he continued, careful not to touch the scar again.

“Aye,” Echo continued. “For a long time, I thought it would have been better if I had died in the explosion, or had killed myself on Skako Minor. I thought that I was useless, when I came back missing three limbs and a lot of the rest of me.”

His voice lowered a bit, and Crosshair could hear the lethargy in his tone. The years spent fighting a fake war, losing his brothers to meaningless violence over and over again. 

“Still do, sometimes.” He added. 

He looked down at Cross, and his eyes once again found the burns bubbling over the side of the sniper’s skull. He closed his eyes and took a breath, and then went back to shaving his brother’s hair. 

“I regret every day that we left you behind, you know.” Echo said. 

Crosshair didn’t move. Didn’t look up at his brother. Instead he looked out the window, trying to ignore the memories playing behind his eyelids. Echo continued.

“It wasn’t fair to you, what happened. It wasn’t fair to any of us. I just– Force I just wish that you never had to experience any of that at all, much less alone.” 

When Hunter tried to talk to Crosshair about the past years, he mostly found himself still angry with the other man. It was muted, and more nuanced now, but the betrayal of his Sergeant would always sit heavy in his heart. But here, in the gentle waning light of a room he called his own, the sun turning everything gold on its way below the water, Crosshair couldn’t find anything in himself but pure exhaustion.

As much as he had liked to tease Echo of his status as a reg, he knew what the other man had seen in his life. The endless years of war, the endless years of death that came with it. The betrayal of his own mind and body, and relearning everything he knew about himself stuck on a ship with strangers after his own brothers could not open their hearts back up to him. He knew intimately what it was like to hate your body and your mind, the things that both had done to hurt your brothers.

Crosshair watched as a butterfly landed on the windowsill for just a moment, fragile wings buffeted in the hands of a careful wind. He was so tired, but he knew that he could rest. Knew that there was time to take it slow. That recovery could take as long as it needed.

“It’s in the past now,” he said. “Can’t change it. Just have to move on.”

Echo finished cutting his hair, and then knelt down in front of the younger clone. Carefully he pressed their foreheads together, his hand warm on Crosshair’s neck. Cross’s own hand found its place on Echo’s shoulder, familiar and yet so different then the last time they had called each other brother.

“I am always here for you, you know that.” Echo said.

“I know.” Crosshair answered.

And for once, he was certain of it.

***

[Guys I joined this site this year because I loved this show so much and in the past few months I have met so many amazingly creative and kind people on here, getting involved with projects, and with others who enjoy the same stuff, and it has been so nice. I am so glad to know that the one thing I know I can always find solace in has reached other people who also enjoy it, and every time someone tells me that I have to walk in a circle around my room. Anyway, thanks y'all :') ]

AO3

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Hewwo could I pleasd possibly get C F K L and T for my robot king Franky? I love him he's so underrated! Let him hit cause he's silly coded man!

I completely agree, Franky deserves so much more love than he gets! Honestly, he would probably be the Straw Hat I would hang out with the most besides my man Sanji.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Right off the bat, he's treating you like you're a part of the family and as if you've been here for way longer than you really have. He's "recalling" stories of you together that never happened and there's nothing you can do or say to get him to admit that they aren't real.

For as lax and carefree as he acts, he's very sharp and pays close attention to you, making sure that you're never alone and easily thwarting any and all escape attempts. He never reacts with anger, he just casually redirects you and acts as if nothing happened. He has a sort of 'you'll attract more flies with honey than vinegar' approach to his darling. He's sure that if he keeps showing how nice he is, you'll realize how good this is for you and accept him. There's no mocking from him for that reason. He makes himself very hard to hate.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Given how strong he is and the fact that he's made of metal, it's highly unlikely that you'll be strong enough to even make him flinch. He takes you fighting back the same way he handles escape attempts. He brushes it off and redirects. He'll give you something to break or rip apart as a better means of getting out your anger. It would be a really nice gesture if he wasn't holding you against your will.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He's your personal hype man. You can't even pour yourself a glass of water without him striking a pose and holding up a sigh with a "10" on it for your technique. It's ridiculous and excessive, but he won't stop. The man follows you around everywhere while hyping you up to literally anyone he sees. He doesn't understand that it might be more than a little embarrassing to have some pantsless man stalking you while calling attention to you constantly, he just sees this as him boosting your confidence.

In private, more quiet moments, he loves to have you around him while he's working on his most recent project. He's fine with you just doing your own thing, but he's going to try his damnedest to rope you into working on his project with him, even if you're just handing him tools. He'll talk you through what he's doing because he loves teaching people new skills, and he hopes you'll take an interest in this.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Very boldly. He abruptly inserts himself into your life while acting like you're old friends and is immediately trying to recruit you into his family/the Straw Hats. He'll be right there for every part of your daily routine while trying to help you or cheering you on with a guitar riff as you do basic tasks. It's all very confusing and overwhelming for you.

Being the handyman that he is, he'll invite himself into your home and try to upgrade everything you have as a means of endearing himself to you. He ignores silly questions like "Who are you?!" and "Why are you in my house?!" while he shows off the new functions he added to your miscellaneous household appliances. Afterwards, he invites you (read: drags you) to a cookout with him and his family/crew. You probably won't be going home after it.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He really doesn't like it when you cry. It's one of the rare moments where he drops his goofy confidence and looks genuinely unsure of what to do. He wants to see you happy and thriving. Seeing you cry hurts him and makes him reassess his approach with you. Unfortunately, he never thinks that letting you go is what you need, so his new techniques usually boil down to more one on one time doing different things that might improve your mood.

Isolating yourself is pointless. He'll just scoop you up and carry you back out where everyone else is while lightly scolding you because "everyone missed you and was worried".

[ms-demeanor]

I downloaded CCleaner at the recommendation of an IT friend. I believe u know what ur talking abt but why is it bad

Short answer:

While running a registry cleaner is useless at best, it's dangerous at worst. As mentioned, the registry is home to lots of important values that both Windows and third-party programs use. If you delete, move, or damage these keys, critical system functions could fail to work.

Since registry cleaners are automated, there's a good chance that their registry scan could tag something as unnecessary when it's actually important. And unless you're a registry expert and check every entry before deleting them, you could cause major damage to your system by deleting something inadvertently.

Basically it's extremely unlikely that registry entries are going to cause problems simply by having a lot of them but it's extremely likely that registry entries are going to cause problems if they're messed with without a lot of really careful attention.

Your computer is a really, really, really smart machine and even with tens of thousands of entries your registry isn't a challenge for the computer to read or access*, but it is a challenge for YOU to read or access. So what registry cleaners have done over the years is marketed themselves as a way to "clean up" your registry and make things faster which doesn't actually make any sense in terms of how the computer works but makes *intuitive* sense to a human looking at a big confusing registry full of entries and extensions that you don't understand.

You shouldn't mess around with your registry unless you are very certain you know what you're doing and have taken a good, complete backup of your computer very recently. You shouldn't trust third parties to mess around in your registry at all.

People tend to like the other tools offered by programs like CCleaner but those are pretty much just a middleman doing stuff that there are already tools built into the OS for. You don't need special software to clean up junk files or adjust what runs on startup, disk cleanup and task manager can do that without installing a third-party software on your computer.

And that is *aside* from the fact that CCleaner specifically has had some incidents of running malware and registry cleaners generally trying to get you to either click on ads or purchase upgrades.

*back in the beforetimes of the 90s registry entries did sometimes cause problems and Microsoft made its own registry cleaner, which went out of support in 1998 because it did kind of help with some stuff but created more problems than it resolved and also it became obsolete when computers started having more processing power and memory and the underlying software was improved. And here's a post that's nearly 20 years old discussing why registry cleaners aren't necessary and can cause problems.

[rom-e-o]

In my og timeline, considering how the girls aren't as on equal grounds when they first meet (Bess an established, married woman already with a glowing reputation amongst the lower classes of the community (amongst the upper class it's a crapshoot), Connie a woman on the run with essentially nothing), do you think that changes Bess and TeTe's relationship at all compared to what they have in the Scroogeverse, even in a small way?

And on the other hand, in your og timeline, if Bess were ever to appear, do you think her and TeTe's relationship might be a little different there too, compared to the Scroogeverse?

Ough, that is an insanely good question.

For obvious reasons, TeTe is VERY protective of Connie. Not in a controlling way, but in a 'suspicious of any company until they prove their intentions' way.

Their daughter was left on the orphanage doorstep overnight and could have been abducted/worse, Arthur passed early, Orin abuses Connie and makes it hard for her parents to see her for 20 years (something he can do way easier in the og timeline than the modern timeline), Connie attempts suic*de and fails, and TeTe has no other immediate/distant family. Connie is all the family she has (Orin does not count).

By this point, Scrooge and Bess are known for their philanthropic efforts across London, and since TeTe is basically New York's biggest children's philanthropist, she knows them from the papers. Ebenezer might even know TeTe's name in turn ("Wait ... DoGoode? That's familiar. Why is it familiar?") When she receives a letter from Connie from the Scrooge manor stating that she is living there in safety and solace, TeTe takes a boat (damn the risks) and visits herself.

I think what changes would be the start of the relationship. She doesn't view Ebenezer or Bess with disdain, but moreso...interest.

"My daughter has written to me about you two. How you took her in and keep her safe. You allowed her the safety of being able to get back on her feet. I ... am thankful. Suspicious and a still a little terrified, mind you, but VERY thankful."

I think TeTe would still bond with Bess easily, especially as they talk about charity ventures, and would take to her very naturally. I can see the start of their bond having more of an orange/yellow-light start, rather than a green one that comes with the security of the modern AU. I can see the relationship also having a more professional start, since she meets Bess as half the dynamic, charity-dealing duo.

The visits would also be less frequent in this universe, as boat travel would take a month, and was not for the faint of heart.

She's also be a staunch ally of the Scrooges at bigger, high-class functions. If anyone dares to take Bess to task about her nationality, age or upbringing, TeTe will hear NONE of it.

At the start, I see Ezekiel getting some of the most persistent grilling. Though, since he's basically the anti-Orin, she realizes pretty quick that he can be trusted. Maybe.

If Bess and TeTe met in my og timeline, I think TeTe would be much more open from the get-go. Her hierarchy of needs is secure - Connie is well and safe. Orin is incarcerated an entire ocean away. I think, very similarly to the modern-verse, she'd take to Bess after hearing about how horribly her mother treated her. She sees this resilient young lady, and feels a calling to support and help her.