#actually try to get on medication for my multitude of problems

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 45)

“Sooo Hal, what exactly do I do here?” N asked nervously, twiddling his thumbs as they walked through the halls.

“I’ll be giving you a shortrange frequency that you’ll monitor, our office takes reports from concerned citizens, and Khan, Dale and I take the ones most suited for our respective teams.”

“Crime here is usually pretty tame, petty theft, b and e’s, vandalism. Occasionally we’ll get more serious calls, domestic violence, occasional homicide, though that’s gotten rare thankfully, or an odd “crime of passion”. Hal continued, N listening intently, he understood most of that, but “crime of passion” seemed to escape him.

“Crime of passion?”

“Couples getting too frisky and damaging one or both of them. Usually young ones who dunno what their doing. Most of the time they just dunno how to disconnect and panic, not too big a deal.”

Except N was still lost, he knew what all those words meant separately, but together they made little sense in his processors. He blinked. He wanted to ask what he meant by “disconnect” but at the same time it felt like a private question, not one he should be asking to his boss on his first day of work. Maybe he’d ask Uzi, or Thad, whichever was less embarrassing.

“How’s your daughter doing by the way? Khan mentioned she was having mobility problems when she was first transferred.” Hal asked turning yet another corner to go down yet another hallway, it always surprised him how large the bunker actually was, even if over half the rooms seemed to be empty. A pang of guilt entered his core, how many of these empty rooms were his fault? Or V’s?

“She’s fine now, she was just a little stiff, now she’s clinging to Uzi like a little monkey.” N gave a soft laugh thinking about his family at home, he always missed the both of them even if he wasn’t gone for very long, he supposed that just came with having a job though.

“Ah, yeah, sometimes that happens… when my son was printed into his toddler body we had to take him to the medical wing and they had to do surgery on his neck for him to start moving.”

“I didn’t know you had a son, I’m sorry, I’m sure that scared you both.”

Hal seemed to slow down for a moment, like he just caught himself doing something he shouldn’t before sighing.

“I did have a son. He’s… agh, nevermind that, we’re here.”

He banged his fist on the steel door, sending the grating noise through the hall, they waited for a few moments, only for nothing to reply back.

“She probably has her damn hearing aid turned off again.” Hal grumbled, before knocking as hard as he could, enough to send a vibration through the floor that N could feel through his feet.

“I heard you the first time! Go away!” A croaky, static filled voice called back, sounding irate and just a little bit scared. Hal rolled his eyes.

“It’s Hal, Mrs. Hopkins, you called us in to check out a break in.” Hal put on a very practiced customer service smile, N felt a minuscule shiver go up his spine, being reminded slightly of J, before it dissipated, here, it actually made sense for someone to have that kind of forced smile, and it wasn’t being used exclusively to make him uncomfortable.

The door opened quickly, the drone responsible being so old her casing had started to yellow, her eyelights were white, behind a thick pair of glasses. And she leaned on a cane, she shook with just the effort it took to stand and she adjusted her glasses as she looked at them.

“Good morning Mrs. Hopkins, what seems to be the problem today?” The way Hal asked the question alluded to his multitude of visits, she didn’t immediately answer, instead looking up at N squinting.

“You’re a tall one. Are you new?” She asked, prodding him in the stomach with her cane, he grunted, still trying to keep his polite smile even as he glanced over at Hal for assistance.

“She can’t see very well” He whispered up into N’s audio receptors, covering his mouth with his hand. “Probably a good thing, don’t give yourself away.”

N nodded and smiled again, extending his hand to shake the old woman’s hand, having to crouch down slightly to do so as she was hunched over her cane. She took it, her casing was freezing and felt like sandpaper, N made a internal note to not live this long.

“Hello Mrs. Hopkins, I’m N, it’s nice to meet you ma’am.” He said, and the ancient drone looked at him again, before her face grew into a kindly smile.

“How polite! And such a handsome young man. I hope Hal here doesn’t ruin you.”

The man in question’s eye twitched, before the moment was gone and he cleared his throat, clearly wanting to be done with this as soon as possible.

“You called us in for a break in?”

“Hmm? Oh yes! I was woken up last night by some footsteps. Above me! Someone was clearly trying to steal my fortune!”

N looked around her apartment, the couch was antique, plush and covered in so many blankets and throw pillows that it was hard to see the color of the actual seating underneath, the coffee table was decorated with a lattice of lace, making using it as an actual coffee table near impossible. The same could be said for most the the apartment, nothing here screamed “valuable”.

“Right, okay.” Hal replied, tense but still playing nice, N decided to help him out, he may have been tired of dealing with this lady, but N wanted to make a good impression, to both his superior and this lady.

“Where did you hear the footsteps Mrs. Hopkins? I could go and check for any signs of forced entry.”

“In my bedroom of course, how else would I hear it?” She answered, and N nodded, turning to Hal who seemed to be asking what he was doing, N gave him a smile before leaning over to whisper at him.

“Even if nothing happened, she believes something did, let me just check out her bedroom and the vents, then we can tell her that nothing was there.”

Hal nodded, seemingly agreeing with this plan, he sighed, before adjusting his posture.

“Well we take every report seriously, may we investigate?”

“Be my guest, and if you find the little hoodlum, tell them to get lost!”

Both officers made their way to the bedroom, which at first glance, had nothing amiss. Aside from the abundance of rather creepy porcelain dolls, all staring at them from various angles, N felt unease, and also the need to voice it.

“Whyyyyyy….” He whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Hal to hear it and he snorted in response, giving him an amused smile.

“I’d be paranoid too with all these eyes on me while I slept.” Hal whispered back, sighing and scanning the room, running his hand over one of the only clear spaces on the large wardrobe that held the vast majority of the dolls.

“Seems clear to me, any difference on your end son?”

N scanned the room in both infrared and thermal, but neither showed anything out of the ordinary, but even still his eyes locked to large vent in the corner of the ceiling, he didn’t know why something felt off with it, but it was giving him some weird vibes.

“Lemme check the ventilation, she did say she heard it above her.”

Hal nodded, looked into the doorway to ensure Mrs. Hopkins hadn’t entered the room and have a thumbs up to N, who let loose his wings and zipped up the shaft after carefully removing the grate in his way.

He had always hated climbing through the vents, not only was it dusty and he’d have to spend an hour cleaning out his olfactory and audio receptors later, but it was a tight squeeze, even without his wings, his shoulders scraped the sides of the ventilation shaft uncomfortably.

It was almost impossible for a normal drone to get up in here unless they had a ladder or also had the ability to fly, so he doubted he’d find anything accept a colony of robo-roaches.

When he got further in however, that feeling of unease watched over him again, like something or someone was aware of his presence and he was disturbing them, but rationality still won out, the chances of somebody being in these vents were astronomically low.

Then, the vent opened up a little, allowing him to crouch instead of crawl, to his left was a slowly rotating fan, his front the vents continued forward, but to his right, there was indeed something out of the ordinary. Caught on one of the seams of the welded metal was a ripped piece of red cloth, stained with multiple layers of oil, the freshest layer though, smelled of iron, and seemed to create a glaze of crimson on top of the multiple layers of dried oil. Blood.

He plucked it from its resting place, dread mixing in with confusion, the oil made some sense, maybe whoever had been here had been injured and using this scrap as a bandage, but the blood made less sense. The only time he’d seen blood recently was when that weird fleshy thing under Doll’s bed bled when he poked it, well, and Uzi’s… head… injury.

He looked back down at the red strip, before he remembered what Doll usually wore, that red cheerleading outfit.

His dread grew, becoming a cold weight around his core, Doll was here? In the bunker? Sneaking around the vents doing who knows what and clearly some type of organic based on this blood. What did he do? V was here, she wouldn’t be expecting Doll if she just dropped down from the ceiling one night and tried to off her. And what about Uzi? She was home alone most of the day, taking care of Tera. Oh Robo-God, Tera, she’d be completely defenseless if the Russian decided to come after her as well.

You must go home, your family is in danger!

He wanted to, his worry sinking it's claws deep into him, but he couldn't just leave, Hal was still waiting for him, and he was on the job.

Who cares? Their safety is more important!

The voice was loud and demanding, far more then it had ever been before, it caused ringing in his ears, but still he had to control himself.

Then he got an idea.

He simply called his girlfriend, he was a phone. And even though his hands were shaking and the urge to go home was strong, the voice ceased, seemingly content with his choice.

“N? Why are you calling me through my system? Are you okay?” At the sound of her voice his worry lessened and his core soared, she was okay, Doll hadn't already come for them.

“I-I found a scrap of cloth in the vents. It's Doll's. S-she's somewhere in the vents, please warn V.”

There was silence on the other end, enough of it that he could hear his daughters light giggling through the other side.

“I fucking hate it here!”

Next ->

[eli-am-confused]

please tell me more about your au with Wiley, Sheila, Duke & Holloway :0

The general idea is that they grow up together and solve Hatchetfield “mysteries” which mostly involves throwing hands with cultists and saving people from becoming another missing persons case. I can see them solving smaller problems to, but I just can’t get the image of them punching cultists in the face out of my head. I imagine they’re also discovering stuff about Hatchetfield along the way.

This au is based on Scooby Doo and Solve It Squad with hints of Gravity Falls because of some obvious reasons. Basically, childhood friends from mid-elementary to the end of high school who get up to some serious hijinks. They split up after high school due to a multitude of factors but specifically after the Accident™️ which causes Holloway to make her deal. They do end up back in Hatchetfield and as a group in adulthood but that takes time and a LOT of stuff happens before then. I’m mostly focused on them as kids and teens tho because that’s when most of the au stuff actually happens.

That gets me to some miscellaneous thoughts, that you probably weren’t asking for but I don’t exactly have a lot of people to talk to about this, over the au in no particular order and with no particular significance. (Keep in mind that not everything is quite set in stone and I love hearing other ideas.)

- Duke is the youngest, then Holloway, then Wilbur, and lastly Sheila is the oldest. Sheila likes to shove it in everyone’s faces that she’s the oldest but Wilbur’s the only one who ever falls for the bait. The other two just roll their eyes and go back to whatever they were doing prior to it getting brought up.

- The whole group has a tendency to banter and pick fights with each other. Sheila is especially bad about it and Wilbur is really bad about always falling into her traps. The only person in the group who is constantly good at shooting down someone who’s trying to pick a fight is Duke, he’s also very efficient at ending fights. That, of course, doesn’t mean he isn’t prone to getting into some mischief of his own from time to time.

- Believe it or not Wilbur has the capability of being the most serious of the group. He can get really into a case and is very protective over his friends and “civilians” that accidentally get caught up in the supernatural. He has the uncanny ability to flip from childish to serious, as he grows older he uses this to his advantage.



- Ok so I’m sure you’re all aware of my Jon Matteson (+Curt Mega) character family tree head-cannon/au. Well, that is also a part of this au because I’m in love with them being the biggest, most confusing family in Hatchetfield.

That being said, Duke is the oldest brother of like 5 and takes his job as oldest very seriously. Despite being the youngest of the friend group he is a professional mother hen and is always carrying medical supplies, water, and snacks in his backpack (plus some important case files and books on the weird and unusual). He also has a very “no man left behind” mentality but I think the whole group echoes that sentiment.

- Wilbur may be an only child but he’s grown up pretty close to his cousin Ted. They have an almost sibling relationship, but are much meaner to each other so a lot of people assume they don’t get along. But a lot of people also have the tendency to assume they’re twins so what do they know anyway?

- Sheila is an only child rich kid. Her parents are also a part of a cult but she doesn’t realize it or get involved with the cult until her senior year of high school. She is a confusing case when it comes to sociability because on one hand she can be absolutely terrible about interacting with others but on the other she knows how to manipulate others into doing the things she needs them to do.

- Holloway is an orphan who didn’t know her parents. Despite growing up around a lot of other kids she’s always felt like an outsider. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t look out for the other kids tho, she’s just more of a cool cousin than an older sister type. Holloway is the worst at social interactions, but she is very protective of those around her and will do basically anything to make sure they’re ok.

- Something I totally didn’t almost forgot to add is that their favorite hangout spot is Wilbur’s house; it has been for about as long as they’ve been friends. It was really just the obvious choice for them. Holloway can’t host for pretty obvious reasons. Duke would like to host but his house is always full of people of all ages and he doesn’t want his friends to feel uncomfortable while he takes care of a younger brother that wouldn’t sit still for anyone but him. Sheila may be rich but she’s all too aware that her parents are weird and they wouldn’t like having her friends over anyway. Wilbur’s house is just, unfortunately, the best place to be.

- an idea I’ve been throwing around in my head is that Holloway could be in contact with Webby. The main groups that this au is based on (Scooby Doo/Solve It Squad) both have an animal companion (talking dog really but in Mystery Incorporated the group before the Scooby gang had a bird so I think any animal would work) and I think Webby could fit that spot in her spider form. I don’t want her to be all that involved though, just giving little hints and suggestions to the group (specially Holloway) when they need it.

- @/thearcanecat mentioned in her reblog of the first post about this au that she imagines Sheriff Keane would be worried about the kids at first before realizing that they’re doing a better job then his own police force and then he would sneak important files in Dukes bag to get them on a case/help them figure some stuff out and I really like that idea! Originally I had imagined Sheriff Keane really not being involved in what the group was doing but I think this makes sense for him. Like obviously he would never do anything to endanger the children but I imagine he’s very proud of the work they’re doing. They are, after all, doing a lot more for Hatchetfield then his men ever have.

- No one can stay mad at Duke. It’s just a way of life. Duke of course doesn’t abuse this power but it does come with some perks. He can easily make witnesses feel comfortable after tragedy, he can talk the groups way out of trouble with the cops, and on the more rare and bizarre occasion he can make a cult member rethink all the bad things they’ve done in the name of whatever dark god they follow. He’s particularly good with younger kids and has a big soft spot for them. Dukes main motivation in life is to help others and make the world a safer place for everyone.

- another thing I’m kinda thinking about is possible shipping? Like obviously this wouldn’t come up until they’re teens but it is an idea I’m juggling with. Specifically wine and dine is something I think can only really come together as adults but I think it could be a very interesting concept post Accident™️ (I am still planning on actually writing it out but if you wanna know the gist of what happens there it’s in the reblogs of the first post for this au). I’m also particularly attached to teen Wilbur dealing with the most obvious and embarrassing crush on Duke. This is all just a thought tho and I do not plan on them getting crushes on each other until they’re older.

Sorry this took so long to answer it’s just been a busy week. If anyone has questions about this au I am very happy to talk about it.

(Also I’m really bad at naming things so if anyone has any idea of a name for this au I am taking suggestions because all I have is the Hatchet Catchers and I’m really not sure about that one)

[doelet444]

sui ideation tw | I absolutely don’t mean to be triggering if this may be sensitive for you, if so please skip this read.

These past 5 years have been very painful and things aren’t going to get better. I have been weighing in on if it’s really worth it, and it’s not, but I stay because I don’t want to hurt my mom and the few people left in my life. Living with schizo-affective bipolar, panic disorder, endometriosis, immunodeficiency, pots, chronic fatigue, gastroperesis, nerve damage throughout my body that has caused a multitude of problems, I’m worried I may have stomach cancer and am going in for an endoscopy in 5 days, have been in severe pain for months. The endometriosis and the cysts, the intense chest pains and heart attack scares from pots, my stomach issues, my psychiatric issues & psychosis, have all put me in the hospital multiple times and when I’m not in a crisis I’m rotting in bed. I went from being a physically very healthy kid to a 22 year old in a wheelchair so fast.

They always say “it gets better, don’t give up” there are ups and downs, but I have been suffering from panic attacks since I was little, depression began at age 9-10, I have been persistently struggling for more than half my life, circumstances progressively and rapidly worsening. People who say “it gets better” may have not been in a major depressive episode for 5, 10, years or even decades straight. I have been heavily medicated since i was 15 and I can say my depression is completely treatment resistant. I have tried every method under the sun aside from electroconvulsive therapy. It hasn’t gone away no matter what I’ve done, my illness is parasitically ingrained into my DNA, which is why I’m a bit of an antinatalist, anyway, My brain is fried and foggy from all the meds, I’m a zombie but utterly unstable and experience severe withdrawal without them (thanks big pharma)

It frustrates me when ppl say “they took the easy way out” or “they were a complete coward to do that” but a lot of people genuinely wait years deciding and weighing in all of their years of physical, emotional and psychological pain, logically knowing it will be like this for the rest of their life, and decide to free themselves of it all. I absolutely do not advocate for it, but I empathize so much and would never blame victims. Not everyone who commits is delusional-y impulsive and selfish about it as people try to make it out to be.

Having bipolar, even when I’m having stable day, I always have the guarantee that it will always become significantly worse and stability does not last. Knowing that often puts me in a persistent sense of dread and anxiety, I don’t feel that I can ever be at peace. it’s just how living with the illness is.

Living through this I’ve firmly come to believe one of two things, either god isn’t real, or if god exists, he is an incredibly cruel entity.

To be clear this isn’t me saying goodbye or anything, I just really, really wish I was gone. I’ll keep living until it’s my time but this is exhausting. Apologies for sounding so un-demure I’m just feeling like, actually really really bad lately.

[omi-papus]

Cal: Here, these are melatonin pills. Hopefully it will get you to at least stay asleep. Keep the bottle. If it doesn't work, we can try out Ambien. That usually works.

He says rather loudly as he puts down a small pill bottle and a glass of water on the table next to him. It's clear he's fighting his instinct to whisper. Although to the other man it might as well have been, he barely heard him, realizing how much he actually looked at Cal's mouth when he spoke and his brain filled the gaps in the sound in.

Still, it was clear what he meant, and Ryley could still easily recognize his silhouette and the outline of his brow from the miniscule light provided by his nearby computer. Normally he would have at least managed to get the sweaty hair out of his forehead, with a heavy sigh to boot. But right now he couldn't move a muscle. Not like he was frozen, or st least not completely. His fuckshit of a brain had still decided to focus on the new knowledge that Calvin just randomly had multiple types of sleep drugs available, finally making sense of a lot of things by realizing he was a chronic insomniac. And his mouth subconsciously scowled when he also realized that Cal wasn't exactly one to take his medication as much as he should. Spending most nights up working, not even attempting to sleep. 

The poor idiot probably saw it as an advantage of some kind. 

Cal: I'm gonna go work in my room, that light's probably bothering you. If you decide to make yourself some tea or something, make sure it's chamomile.

He pressed a hand to his shoulder and quickly moved away. Ryley watched, feeling heavy, as the man took his PDA, computer and multitude of papers and stacked them, moving through the living room. He was inside, disappointed. Not that he was going to tell him that. Calvin had finally gathered everything and at his last step out to the hallway he let out a strong.

Cal: Good night.

Fuck. He wasn't able to respond to it. Now left to adjust to the darkness, logically Ryley knew there was a large glass window that took up most of the wall, but the emptiness of space had nothing for it to let through. He was not bothered by the dark itself. It did not frighten him. And yet he sorely missed the light that highlighted Cal working mindlessly in his proximity. He hoped he was not aware of this, but that is the only reason he almost nightly slept on the couch in the living room, close to his work desk. His supposed dislike for Calvin's memory foam mattress had been a bold faced lie. He could really not give less of a shit what surface he slept on. It is also not even like said mattress had Cal's butt imprinted, in fact it was mostly completely flat, as if brand new. That made a lot more sense now, too.

The only reason he felt the need to be there was nothing more than the selfish and pathetic reason that he needed to confirm where he was. Or, at least, he really wanted to. Far too often, he'd fall asleep, trying his absolute best to listen in to the sound of him typing. Almost every day he'd wake up forgetting where he was and looking over to see him in that same spot made the pressure on his chest subside.

He wasn't normally one to have nightmares. And even when he did, he was usually able to sleep through them, if he ever woke up it was just him opening his eyes, realizing where he was, sighing hard and going back to sleep. Which made it all the more confusing that tonight he had woken up multiple times, feeling heavy and ever so slightly trembling. He never shot up and shouted, or hyperventilated, but more than once he had to sit up and bury his face in his hands, trying to quietly rid himself of the adrenaline. Cal had asked him if he was ok multiple times, and every single one Ryley replied that he was fine. He supposed that this time he finally had enough and decided to do something to help. Cal, being his pragmatic self, opted to offer him a direct solution to his problem, and didn't pry into his anxieties.

Which is good, because Ryley could not have brought himself to explain that, that last nightmare was about loosing him. Ok not exactly. That didn't look like Calvin. Way too skinny and tall to be him. It was stupid how during the entire dream, he didn't think to question once why a completely different guy had taken the place of Cal. Dreams are just like that, he supposed. At least the now rapidly fading memories of it were of some rando tragically drowning and not Cal's face panicked sinking under the ocean. 

He laid back down. He knew, objectively speaking, it didn't mean as much as one would assume. It's not consistent enough to call it a recurring nightmare, but every single nightmare he's had for the past eight years has been about him failing to save someone on 4546b. His crewmates, strangers, his ex, his parents, even people he hated in prison were part of it, and Cal was just a logical step in that direction. It did not make these any less terrifying. And normally he felt empty whenever he woke up from one. Because half of the time, he would wake up, and then realize that in a way his dream had come true. His parents had been dead for ages. All the way back to when he was seventeen. That's why Ryley had always bowed to never get involved in a strike like they did. But seeing either being torn apart by a warper and waking up, only to remember that they were still very much gone, was debilitating. His crew, from the aurora, were also soul sucking because he knew how many of them died exactly like how his dreams presented it. Sometimes calling it a nightmare didn't even feel correct.

It had not been the same with Cal. When his eyes shot open, head dizzy and body stiff, from the images of “him” fading, he turned around and saw the man himself approaching. The real him. Eye bags and all. He heard his voice, far less clear than in any dream but still undoubtedly real, and he felt his hand, gently gripping his shoulder before respectfully retreating and leaving behind something so characteristically him, that couldn't leave any doubt in his mind that he was there.

If he had to keep dreaming. To see those same nightmares with no end. He'd gladly watch dream Cal die a thousand deaths, if he could wake up to find him close by, just being himself.

He did not consider getting up, following him to his room and laying down beside him. It was a thought, but he did not consider it. First of because ew. What the fuck would that even look like. Cal would probably get super freaked out, especially since despite the early agreement that they would both use the one bed on the ship like adults, they have yet to ever actually sleep together. And right now he believed Cal's aid was enough. 

That's one word that he endlessly associated with Cal. Enough. 

He hopes they both knew how long they had been with less. How Ryley has been so many years with so very little from someone. That he could not help but treasure the simplicity of what he gave him. A glass of water, some sleeping medication, and some space. Which, in retrospect, was probably for the best, since his departure likely prevented Ryley from staring at him the whole night.

He'd take Cal. He'd take him over anything, is something Ryley had been forced to realize over the past few months. He couldn't manage to think of a reason for why he would choose anything else but to be Calvin's stowaway. And that wasn't exactly the high compliment it sounded like. His options were water hell, the void of space and jail. He has yet to mull ever hypotheticals like weather he'd prefer the aurora, and that this whole thing never happened, or that he was still a minor engineer in the docking bay.

All a really complicated way to avoid saying he liked it here, and he wanted to stay with Cal for as long as he could.

He took the pill and slowly drank the whole glass. It was a nice temperature. He pulled up the covers, and quickly came up with a plan to make breakfast in the morning before closing his eyes again.

[voidoffline]

Hello! Disabled person here. Yeah the whole getting rid of benches fucking sucks so much. Already I have to, most of the time, sit down on the ground if my issue starts to spike up and my body decides it hates standing (threatening to make me pass out). And believe it or not I’d rather not sit on the ground? Like? I would prefer if I could sit on a bench then the floor of a convention, the sidewalk outside, and just about anywhere else.

Also it feels like there’s a strange lack of water fountains now? Or at least available water fountains. I think I remember in a movie theater, or a Walmart not so sure - seeing some water fountains where you had to pay a quarter to use it. And sure, a quarter is not a lot, but it is when basically nobody carries change anymore.

I have a medical emergency? I’m on the verge of passing out as I’m slumped up against a wall sitting on a dirty floor while people walk by looking at me funny as I desperately try not to pass out while my mother frantically tries to get a vending machine to work to get me water. That’s a true story btw. That happened. It was a sad day and I ended up feeling guilty, embarrassed, and sad. For a multitude of reasons

Also may I point out how so many homes now are built with stairs. That’s another thing that feels like an anti-people thing. There’s also a large homeless problem where I live, which means lost and lots and lots of stores and places not having bathrooms that are free to use, or, actually, there’s just a lot of them in general that don’t have bathrooms at all. Usally in the smaller stores than only small businesses can afford to buy (nothing in small businesses, they can’t usually pay for a bigger building that has a wear house)

Our governments and higher ups fucking screams about equality while silently screwing us all in the ass (in a bad way, obviously)

Really though, like we've made our cities so uncomfortable even for housed people, just in an effort to hurt the homeless. Parks and beaches close at night so homeless can't sleep there. Loitering is illegal so homeless can't sleep there. No bench at the bus stop because someone might sleep on it. No overnight parking because someone might sleep in the car there.

These laws aren't even beneficial to housed populations of the city, and they purely exist out of a) hatred for the homeless and b) an attempt to make your city look "presentable" to tourists. And it just sucks all-around.

[am-i-the-asshole-2]

This ask may be triggering for people with food related trauma

This is from several years ago and I will be using the ages we were then.

My ex (19-21) and I (same ages) lived together for two years in his dad's place. I was definitely an asshole (we both had our fair share of toxicity, but I definitely started it) and often called him ugly. I have since grown and no longer consider physical appearance a reason to demean a person. I know I was an asshole then and have sincerely apologized.

During our relationship I had an idea for an app. I have zero tech skills (I legit hate computers and can't learn programming) so I asked him to help me. He agreed but never showed me progress beyond logos and stuff.

We broke up, I moved out, and offered to pay him a little whenever I got a paycheck (50/100$ every couple of weeks) to slowly work on the app (again I had never seen any progress just blindly trusted him).

Eventually I stopped talking to him at all and didn't pay him anymore (at this point I'd sent around 1k). I am now living with a lovely woman and am poor again (disabilities making job security a bitch). I reach out asking for my money back, or the work that he'd already done.

He refuses, saying it's his IP (fair) and that he doesn't have to give me shit. I was like, ok but I haven't seen anything of your IP, I'm not benefitting from it, I just want the money back, you can keep your work.

He says, "well I assume since you were a business person that you made up invoices and stuff". He was mocking me, knowing full well I hadn't done any of that because I never thought to do so. Then he drops a bomb on me (possibly to mess with my head).

He admitted to feeding me pork (not just a pork product like gelatin which I consider fine but actual pork meat) without my knowledge or consent. His justification was that since I didn't have a religious or medical reason for not eating pork that I don't get to complain, and that I never noticed the difference.

He tells me that because I was lazy (read disabled in a multitude of ways I didn't know about at the time) and I refused to go to the grocery store (moderate agoraphobia, I went sometimes but it was hard) that I basically made it really hard for him to shop for me, because I never asked for anything I wanted (not true I have autism and felt pretty limited in my food options at the time). He considered feeding me (not even with his money) a massive burden.

I got really mad obviously, and cussed him out. I live with someone who eats pork and it's never a problem for us to make food and buy food we both like. But my ex always catered to his dads taste and I was always uncomfortable even leaving the bedroom in that house so I rarely cooked.

It took a couple years after hearing that before I felt safe even trying pork under my own steam. And I grew up Jewish so even if I'm not religious now pork still meant a lot emotionally (the first time I saw my jewish grandpa knowingly eat something unkosher it shattered my world).

I demanded my money back and he basically just told me to prove that he owes me money. I used zelle to send him money and even though the transactions showed up the note attached "paycheck" didn't so I couldn't find the right ones.

Was I the asshole for demanding money I couldn't prove he owed and talking shit to him when I found out about the pork thing? Cause I feel like he definitely betrayed my trust but it's hard to separate the two situations now and I just can't tell if he was actually right that I should have been better prepared as an aspiring business owner or if he was just being a dick who didn't have the money and didn't want to hand over the IP (and used the pork confession to mess with me emotionally, make me unstable, and lash out).

In my mind, he took the money and for all I know didn't even do the work. But if he did the work, either he should hand over the IP, or return the money. It's hard to admit that he might be right because he violated me so badly so I hate him and cannot think clearly.

And like, I used to think he was better than me because I couldn't tell that he was being as toxic and abusive to me as I was to him. I thought I was this evil person and he was literally superior to me. I felt so betrayed. Was I the asshole? Should I have kept my mouth shut about the money? Is this ask too long? I genuinely can't tell anymore.

[inkintheinternet]

Mind and Genetics

By Arjuwan Lakkdawala

Ink in the Internet

There are some famous quotes that have very powerful observations and wisdom in them. They are eloquent, skillfully crafted communication with the world, and a window to the psyche of the author.

I have chosen the first quote as an example of the human mind's ability to examine the variables in a situation and conclude what are the requirements of a solution, and know that there is a higher level of understanding. The second quote I chose to demonstrate how the mind can think into the future by studying present trends and developments. Both quotes articulate elequenty these very astute mental analysis.

The quote by Albert Einstein:

"No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it."

If I were to try and give a human intellect explanation of this quote it could be infinite in its derivatives. So I will to simplify it give a mechanical example:

The engineer has a higher level of consciousness than the machine that has only specific functions it can understand.

Another quote which I think is visionary is from science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke:

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

This quote explains itself in this era of advancing technology.

(Side note: I don't agree with the complete views of the authors of each quote. But I do agree that we humans could be experts and knowledgeable at somethings and not at others.)

Intelligence and the vast expanse of the human mind is infinitely complex, with multiple dimensions of time, layers of understanding and meaning. Human cognition is certainly on levels, to understand each mind the recipient of the output has to be just as skilled intellectually as the source of the communication, otherwise the wisdom is lost and the words are not understood in their true context.

What is the innovative power of the human psyche, to have visions for the future, to have imagination, to be able to express oneself in a multitude of meanings. A sentence could be written to be nuanced. These are precisely the abilities that have and always will make artificial intelligence nowhere near a competition to the human mind.

In this era which I like to refer to as the New World (year 2000 to present day), there has never been such an interaction of minds. It is the first time in our recorded history.

If having a slightly indepth understanding of psychology was never a relevant thing in the past, unless you were in the profession. I would say it is in the New World.

Mentalities world-wide are on display, and we now get exposed to millions of thoughts our ancestors did not have to deal with. Those thoughts unlike books or movies, are actual humans in real time posting their ideas, propaganda, activism, whatever we can think of. It's all there on the internet by living people. So there are consequences and effects of our online interactions. And from the news we can see that those communications are most of the time not of friendly nature, and neither do they yield progressive results. So what this says to us is that ignorant and primitive minds, who are not thinkers are the majority online as it is open access.

I sometimes feel its like watching the zombie apocalypse unravelling. This aspect of the Internet - namely social media is extremely disturbing.

I feel like I'm writing entries in my diary at the end of the world times.

So it should be no surprise that mental illness is on the rise (as I stated in my previous article.) It is an alarming issue, and I recently read that IQ scores have gotten low in the US.

Could it be that the delusional narrative on the internet has caused mass psychosis. The medical definition of psychosis is "levels of detachment from reality. The more detatched the more severe the psychosis." We can see this very clearly in this era as men pretend to be women, or adults who think they are animals,. We are in fact seeing many different manifestations of what can be objectively described as psychosis.

Anarchy, a form of criminal mentality is also on the rise. The crime rate around the world is going through the roof. Senseless killings, violence, and hateful aggressive attitudes.

I think holding on to sanity could be the greatest challenge of this era. And it is paramount to understand psychology, as we are when online in a battlefield of psychological warfare. This is not actual war of course, however, the traps and pitfalls of its negative impact on our mental health or that of our children makes it a serious threat.

Why are there humans inclined towards criminal and aggressive behavior and others are not. There are several questions like this in psychology, is it the environment and society that influences good or criminal inclinations or is it genetics.

If you are interested in the subject of stupidity in itself, I recently read an article by Professor Brian Klaas about it. "The Evolution of Stupidity (and Octopus Intelligence).

What causes genuise and what causes stupidity. How does the genuise mind work, and what about a "dumb" mind does it work at all.

What about "Mind over Matter" or in the case of AI "Machine over Mind" there is no denying artificial intelligence is changing our reliability on memory and thinking. Information is now stored on a memory card, if we want directions there is Google and the same for searches. Unlike before when we had to think back on bits of information stored in our memory to answer a question, as it was easier and faster then to search the yellow pages, or find an expert to ask.

For me to have a higher level of understanding of any subject, I must go to the roots or the very start of it. In the case of psychology I cannot imagine that man was ever like an ape - un-thinking. From the cave paintings to the very first writings that we have records of. It all indicates that man is a born thinker.

According to records the oldest system of recording knowledge is the cuneiform - developed in Mesopotamia (ancient Iraq.) At around the same time writing was independently also developed in ancient Egypt and ancient China, with the Mesopotamian tablets being the oldest.

A fascinating new discovery on a decoded Mesopotamian Tablet narrates a story very similar to Noah's Ark, and says that a type of fossil was used in building the ship. This tablet is a 1000 years before the Bible, and it had a dramatic effect on understanding ancient history. It also raises the question of "fossils" how can it be so early in the history of the world. This is unanswered and not explained yet.

Archealogists and linguists have many theories of what motivated ancient writing. The primary theory is economics and that symbols of numbers were in use before words.

In present day there is ongoing studies of the effects of genetics and environment on a person's psychology. Scientists have so far established that genetics and environment interect - that is genetics could be a factor in how a certain person reacts to trauma from a different reaction of another person. Overall, studies at this time state that genetics are not the main driving force of psychological behavior.

Mind over matter: we have to here discuss the Placebo Effect. It's a psychological phenomena that has been observed for a millennia and is still not properly understood. A few things that have been concluded that a placebo does cause the brain to release feel good hormones like endorphins and dopamine, and this has pain and stress relieving effects.

What do neurons do. The brain explores thoughts and sends signals to the body through electrical impulses generated by neurons.

"In short, our nervous systems detect what is going on around us and inside of us; they decide how we should act, alter the state of internal organs (heart rate changes, for instance), and allows us to think about and remember what is going on. To do this, it relies on a sophisticated. - network — neurons." Medical News Today.

Arjuwan Lakkdawala is an author and independent science researcher.

X/Twitter: Spellrainia Email: arjuwan.writer@gmail.com

Copyright ©️ Arjuwan Lakkdawala 2024

Sources:

Harvard Health Publishing - The power of the placebo effect

Medical News Today - All you need to know about neurons

Medically reviewed by Seunggu Han, M.D. — By Tim Newman — Updated on July 18, 2023

Language Insight - A short history of writing

World History Encyclopedia - Cuneiform - Definition

by Joshua J. Mark

published on 17 November 2022

Study.com - Writing History, Invention & Evolution

Contributors: Sasha Blakeley, Kevin Newton

[craigsumter-justice]

My Legal Battle with my Family and their Co-horts / Co-conspirators (146):

Now, I would like to show everyone how my family intentionally preys on my medical condition (epilepsy) to intentionally elicit seizures with the intent to cause me severe physical and mental harm and trauma and their intent to kill me / bring about my death.  This of course I will support with evidence.  Evidence that shows on multiple occasions how they “expected” me to have more seizures when I had never had a problem with seizures before the last three (3) years and how this also evidences and is evidenced by their attempt to prevent financial loss on their part or from having to pay their financial obligations (financial agreements made to me and other agreements made to me) and to prevent me from being able to recover damages (in a court of law) they have caused me, to prevent me from suing them, and to prevent me from prosecuting them for their multitude of crimes.

The three (3) attached images are of a three (3) page email exchange I had with my mother, Gloria Sumter, on October 28th, 2021.

The first email (which is at the bottom) is from my mother, Gloria Sumter, to me, Craig Sumter, on October 28th, 2021 at 2:47 p.m.

She states in the email:

"Arborgates called at 10 this morning. Said you maybe had a seizure & [were] trying to get into office ( said this happened before & you [had] a knife & scissors). They were freaked out and called cops, and maybe Grady?? So. What happened? Seems like every time I send you money you have a seizure (suspicious). Let me here from you."

The second email (which begins on the first image about one-fourth of the way down and continues / finishes on the second image) is from me, Craig Sumter, to my mother, Gloria Sumter, on October 28th, 2021 at 4:07 p.m.

I state in the email:

"I didn't have a knife or scissors. I walked down to the office and knocked on the door and spoke to two employees through the window/door. The only thing I had other than the clothes I was wearing were my keys. They call the police as protocol due to concern for a possible medical issue or need. Every time I have had a seizure of which they were aware (or any other time and place in my life), the police were often called. Police usually arrive first (Police or Fire Department) and then an ambulance if warranted. No Grady didn't come out. I told the two residents and the AG [Arbor Gates] employees I was okay and I was going back to my apartment. I continued to calm down and took a shower. I spoke with the apartment manager a few hours ago, he didn't mention contacting you or that anyone in the office had. The only reason you were called the one time was because they were unaware of which of the two phone numbers in the lease paperwork was mine. Leroy, the apartment manager is very kind and he checks on me and tells me all the time to call him anytime on his cell phone. And even if he is not working, he reaches out to see how i'm doing. I am going to have to check with the leasing office/management why they thought i had scissors and/or a knife. Also why they are contacting you in Mississippi and discussing my private, personal medical complications. That is actually not legal, it would only if I had filled out paperwork denoting you as my emergency contact, which I didn't. I actually listed my friend Chase as my emergency contact. I don't know how sending money would correlate to me having a seizure. Now I have had several seizures in the last 18 months, I would say somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 seizures that correlated to you spontaneously decided to not send money which you had already and priorly agreed to send thereby leaving me in a bind, causing me economic harm, missed and late payments, overdraft fees, significant damage to my credit, unable to pay my health insurance premium, a whole slew of aggregate repairs and maintenance needed to be performed on my car (to the point that it is really a roll of the dice if it will: (1) start if needed; (2) not spontaneously die/catch fire/lose power on the highway and cause a possible accident; (3) the tires, worn so thing, fail/blow out and either leave me stranded or cause and accident; (4) safely brake/slow down/stop as it has been in need of new brakes now for as long as I've had it. I even talked to dad about it not long [after] I got it from you, because they had started making a grinding noise (which is what disc brakes do because as the pads wear down, a metal spike begins to rub and scratch the disc(s) thereby letting you know. However if not replaced, this can actually ruin the discs by warping them and then even with new brake pads they will not be effective as providing consistent friction to slow the vehicle. When I asked dad when the last time he had had the brakes changed, he said he has never put new brakes on your this Sonata the entire time you owned it. And it is now at 96,000 miles. Speaking of this Sonata, I read the brochure you sent me regarding the "software upgrade." The software upgrade only functions to let you know the engine is about to fail/seize up/catch fire/die by warning light on the dashboard, the the software automatically takes control of the engine reducing its available power/output to an insignificant bare minimum level of operation (if it actually will still operate), just long enough to hopefully allow you to coast off the highway and prevent [an] accident and hopefully allow the vehicle owner to pull into a service station or something. It is not a fix or a repair or preventative measure to the engine failing, only to give slight warning. As you've had this brochure, not sure for however long, you obviously knew about the engine failures and recall associated with the 2011/2012 Sonatas. In addition to this for nearly 2 years now, ever since I got this Sonata, the front right tire has had a leak,

which I took to the tire place literally the day after you and dad left Atlanta in 2019, the removed a screw from the tire, patched it but it was in a place that he said it would most likely not work as a fix, and he was right. When I told you, you told me I could just continue to air up the tire every week at the gas station at $2.00 a pop. The other major issue is that the transmission sensor is in need of replacement, which I told you about 18 months ago and you told me we would get it fixed at sometime in the future. I even called the Hyundai dealership back then and he explained what it was and the cost/etc. The other major issue with which also is not ignorable is its missing the front bumper. And I was just notiified of my registration renewal which needs to be done in about 6 weeks. Well, for one, the car will not pass inspection without a bumper. Cars are required to have bumpers and be able to withstand an impact of something around 30 mph (not sure about the speed). I literally could get pulled over and ticketed anytime if I were to drive it without a bumper, just like a cracked windshield or a tail-light or headlight out. Also USAA is not going to provide insurance for a car with no bumper as it significantly raises their liability just as if it didn't have airbags, or anti-lock brakes, etc. This compounded with the fact that I have mental health issues that are not being treated by seeing a therapist; I don't sleep hardly at all and haven't now in about 14-15 months because of the right shoudler injury I suffered from a seizure contemporaneous to that time. You have known this, and you forbade me from having surgery prior to obtaining health insurance in 2020; I did see an orthopedist who performed diagnostic testing; told me of the SLAP tear, rotator cuff tear and something else and told me I required surgery. I was able to receive one corticosteroid shot which helped with the pain for a few months but I'm not able to receive another as it will cause the rotator cuff to disintegrate he said. So since about April, I have been in excruciating pain all the time, can't sleep, and continue to have seizures. I also did some reading on the effects of not sleeping and how it causes further degradation or exacerbation of any mental health issues; causes permanent heart damage; causes its own mental health problems; causes inability to focus and to be distracted (most likely the reason i erred when moving my car out of the parking spot in the garage resulting in the loss of the front bumper).

The tires have to be aired up at a gas station on a regular basis or [they] will go flat and there's no way to plug [in a pump to] air them up in my parking garage and no way for a tow truck to tow the car (its too low of a ceiling and too tight for a tow-truck to get into). Its 2 tires now and has been for a while that have to be aired up weekly or bi-weekly at least. And if you recall last October I suffered a priaprism (a prolonged errection) that required emergency surgery and as I stated in an email to you a few months ago, I can no longer obtain an erection even with oral ED medication (Cialis/Viagra). My urologist that performed the surgery told me back then to come back to him if I had any issue like that. There are a few other options, including a different kind of medication that he has to prescribe and instruct me on how to use. So with not being able to go anywhere, do anything, socialize, date, have sex, be romantically involved, play volleyball, or other sports, can't workout/exercise as I have done for 30 years 5-6x week the whole timei and love, can't work, can't sleep, am in chronic pain all the time, am stranded and feel imprisoned in my apartment, and stressed about all of the things mentioned, plus I have been harrassed on Instagram (mostly) and Facebook now for about a year with all kinds of fake accounts pretending to be me and using my pictures. I just had no idea what to do and im stressed out. And working out/exercising is the best and number one thing I can do to alleviate stress and prevent seizures but of course this also requires me being able to get adequate restful sleep. On top of that, Shalene has been posting to my Instagram account (she did Sunday) and slandered me, calling me a liar basically and attempting to contact people I know in Atlanta. I had already blocked her and she had to have created another Instagram account. I'd also like to add that at least 4 times in the last 6-10 months, you have threatened to make me homeless, cancel my lease, stop sending me money, kick me out on the street and I would never get another penny. I am taking anti-anxiety meds; and I take anti-depressants, and a few others. Even with anti-depressants that cause sleepiness; anti-anxiety meds; and I take melatonin, I still can't sleep. I've lost weight from not being able to workout too and I've been told on social media that I have lost a lot of muscle and need to get it back :(

And you know how much the seizures scare me and freak me out; how I don't know who I am or what's going on for a good while and how I try to "get away from the seizure." That's why I went wondering down to the office this morning. I was frightened and looking for someone to talk to, someone to tell me what was going on. I hyper-ventilate for a good 30 minutes after the seizure too and grunt. I think people are after me and trying to hurt me. It's absolutely terrifying to me. I'm not aggressive in anyway. Today, wherever I fell/seized, it caused me to have worse pain in both my shoulders. They are achy and have sharp pains. And then after you say someone notified you that I had a medical episode this morning, you email me all nasty, inquiring and accusatory. That's the last thing I need on top of it all. I'm not looking for sympathy, but I really don't have anyone at all Gloria. Nobody. And I can't get out and meet people, play sports, follow my recovery plan, serve at my church, and I'm always too tired to do anything or I'm having seizures or in terrible pain. Anyway, just please don't send negativity my way. I hope you have a great rest of your day."

The third email (which is the top of the first image) is from my mother, Gloria Sumter, to me, Craig Sumter, on October 28th, 2021 at 5:28 p.m.

She states in the email:

"They didn't say you had a knife & scissors today - said that happened once in hte past. When you damaged your fender, you said it wasn't that bad & the other car was fine."

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

By Necessity And By Right

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy-laden and overburdened, and I will cause you to rest. [I will ease and relieve and refresh your souls.] Take My yoke upon you and learn of Me, for I am gentle (meek) and humble (lowly) in heart, and you will find rest (relief and ease and refreshment and recreation and blessed quiet) for your souls.” Matthew 11:28-29AMPC

Are you bone weary? Has everything become almost too difficult to bear? Bills not caught up? Fighting in the household? Sickness and mounting medical bills? Overwhelmed with the schedule, work, children, and home? Working for the church in volunteer work and not enough hours to fulfill what needs done, what has to be done, and what is declaring itself as ‘must be first?’

At my age the body doesn’t move as fast as it did— the mind thinks it does but facts are facts. The list of work to do is endless. Desire for napping is at an all time high since my babyhood years. Places I desire to go to and those I actually go to are vastly different. I have to admit, I lie to myself frequently, saying, ‘I’ll do that later.’ Problem is later is much like tomorrow— neither of them ever arrive.

Christ Jesus calls me to come to Him and chill-lax, rest. As soon as I go to Him, a multitude of things come up, or come into my mind. I can’t fix the world— but I think about it like I can. I can’t fix our family— but I think I can say something which will make things different. I can’t fix Lou— but I invent different ways to help him with this illness. Do you understand what I’m saying? My mind gets so busy that I find myself doing all the thinking instead of even speaking to God about needs. Here I am with the attention of the CEO over everything, our planet and all matter— and I don’t even talk to Him because I’m too busy thinking. — Never happened to any of you— right?

Jesus invites us to COME to Him. This is an open invitation, anytime day or not— come. He said that to all of us who get so busy trying to be something we’re not— He’s the ONLY ONE capable. 33 times the translators of AMPC Bible showed the underlying meaning of the original Hebrew word— God is what we ‘vitally need’ and comes to us because we tell Him, we need Him. Psalm 27:8AMPC “You have said, Seek My face [inquire for and require My presence as your vital need]. My heart says to You, Your face (Your Presence), Lord, will I seek, inquire for, and require [of necessity and on the authority of Your Word].” Isaiah 55:6AMPC “Seek, inquire for, and require the Lord while He may be found [claiming Him by necessity and by right]; call upon Him while He is near.”

Laying our burdens and yokes down to pick up His means one thing— we’ve learned we can’t and He can. Do we know we’re in desperate need of Him? Since being dreadfully ill for three months, I’ve given up trying to carry and do it all. Daily, I “come to Me” and sit with Him “by necessity and by right,” ‘I need Your help Lord.’ He helps me make quick work of duties, household work seems to be done in a flash. I don’t understand ‘how He does everything,’ but I love carrying His burden — it’s easy.

How about you? Are you ready to admit your necessity for Him? It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: Papa God thank You for all the help. People don’t know You love being needed and involved in our lives. Help these words to show them, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2023 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.

[illnessfaker]

that post you just reblogged by vaspider has a multitude of problems irt both liberation for physically disabled/ill people and mentally disabled/ill people. ignoring points of solidarity between the two groups isn't helpful towards liberation, no, but neither is saying "mental conditions are inherently physical disabilities because the brain is an organ" as an argument because on top of being a logical fallacy that idea has historically played out pretty badly irt mental illness specifically and neither is ignoring the differences between "physically disabled" and "mentally disabled/ill" as social categories to the extent that people are pretending as if "cripple" somehow isn't a word that people associate with mobility impairment before anything else, even if people who lack mobility impairments are sometimes called that (but i mean everyone and their brother regardless of any specific disability status is gonna get called the r-slur if they play on an online CoD lobby.)

anyway, i'm gonna quote my own post and see if you can glean anything from that in terms of how physical disability and mental disability are distinguished from one another:

trying to locate where the division between mental disability/illness and physical disability/illness using the body/mind is almost entirely irrelevant anyway because that's not where the distinction is actually created because the distinction is sociocultural. in other words, the distinction between mental and physical conditions is not an essential one, it is one that is externally created due to the ways in which they are stigmatized and also categorized and addressed by the medical establishment and society as a whole.

diagnoses of mental conditions revolve around analysis of thinking and behavior. diagnoses of physical conditions revolve around analysis of bodily function. sanism and ableism against mental conditions revolve around punishment for perceived deviations from normative patterns in thinking and behavior. ableism against physical conditions revolves around punishment for perceived deviations from normative bodily functioning.

obviously these two things have overlap. obviously appeals to neurological functioning are often made when it comes to sanism and ableism against mental conditions ("something is wrong with your brain") but that doesn't mean beliefs around brain dysfunction are the backbone of sanism and ableism against mental conditions. obviously appeals to psychological functioning are made when it comes to ableism against physical conditions (medical gaslighting and accusations of physically disabled/ill people just being "crazy" or "hysteric" or "making things up") but that doesn't mean beliefs around psychological functioning are the backbone of ableism against physical conditions.

yeah, conversion and psychosomatic symptoms exist. yeah, there are many cases in which mental conditions create chronic enough physical impairment or physical conditions create chronic enough impairments in thinking/behavior that the lines between mental and physical disability/illness blur. yeah, medications that alter neurological functioning are used in treatment for mental conditions, but again, the goal is changes in thinking and behavior + medication is not the only effective treatment. absolutely none of that means that the distinction needs to be thrown out wholesale because that would be like insisting we shouldn't make any distinction between men and women or transgender and cisgender anymore since gender is also socially-constructed rather than being an inherent quality - we still live in a society where gendered violence exists and where men and women/transgender and cisgender people are, broadly, not treated as if they are the same and have different enough general relationships to gendered violence that those categories are warranted in understanding how our society functions.

notice how none if this is in black-and-white terms, because it is correct that there isn't really a hard line between physical vs. mental conditions. there also isn't hard line between neurotypical and neurodivergent but i'm not out here arguing that neurotypical is a useless term because of that.

overall the idea that "a person with a mental illness has a disability of their physical body" isn't going to start being true and isn't going to start helping mentally ill people in terms of meaningful social change, rather than being something that's justified egregious institutional and societal harm to us just because vaspider - a tumblr user who has displayed a lengthy history of problematic behavior ever since i joined tumblr back in like 2014 - posted about it, i promise you.

So I know every social media site likes to pretend it is better then other social media sites. Right now the disability community on tumblr is trying to exclude disabled people from disability spaces, because only select psychical disabilities are "real" disabilities. On tiktok?! Disabled people are calling out EMS workers for their violent ableism and educating people on why some of us are scared to even call 911 if we need help, outside of the bill. (yes this is US centric, I'm American.) What do you think is going to be more helpful for disabled people in the long term?

I barely post on tiktok because making videos isn't really accessible to me and doing so is very stressful so it would be nice if y'all could stop being laterally violent.

[myaekingheart]

I don’t know but for some reason I’ve been feeling really weird all day/evening. Like I was fine when I woke up, had a bowl of cereal, some dark chocolate, and some chex mix, and then my IBS started acting up again so I spent the rest of the afternoon between the living room on my laptop and running to the bathroom. I think that’s when the feeling really started, I don’t know. By 6pm, I started feeling hungry again so my boyfriend and I bundled up and ran down the street to pick up some food and that’s when I really noticed it. On the car ride over, I had this fleeting thought about what if life was really just one big VR and nothing I was seeing out of the windshield was actually real and I guess you could say I started dissociating a bit? I didn’t expect the thought to affect me the way it did, or at least as much as it did, though looking back I see now that that makes absolutely no sense, of course it would fuck me up. We spent way more time getting food than I would’ve liked to, since they were short-staffed and it took a while for our order, but while I was there the feelings just got worse and worse. The guy running the register and the drive-through looked simultaneously foreign and all too familiar and I wished he had a name tag on so I could try and see if I really did know him from someplace, like some dream of a dream or fleeting moment ten years ago or something. I noticed myself picking up on the details of the restaurant more than usual, thinking of how the decor reminded me of the diner set in The Sims 2 and then my mind hopped back to “What if none of this is real?” again. They always play light rock over the speakers, the kind of music you’d expect to hear at a bus station or in the airport bathroom or something. On the drive back home, I realized that we’ve never gone there during daylight. Only at nighttime. That didn’t really help the panic, to be quite honest. Neither did my boyfriend’s spiel about how car accidents are inevitable regardless of how good a driver you are (since he’s been tasked with teaching me how to drive now that I have my own car-- this is very backwards). I tried to remain calm while we were eating, focusing on the show we were watching rather than the nagging little fears in the back of my mind but much like car accidents, paying mind to those thoughts is also inevitable. At least I ate something, so I’m proud enough of myself. In the past couple hours, though, I feel like I‘ve just been spiraling further and further. It’s such a weird sensation that’s honestly so hard to really pinpoint. It’s like everything is far too foreign and familiar all at once, and there’s a stale, dry, warm taste in my mouth and a lump in my throat. I sip water but no matter what, I still fear that there’s something keeping me from swallowing. Sometimes my nose feels weird, like a tingly or full sensation, and that scares me because I know what typically comes after that. Sometimes I feel as if I’m gasping for breath, which I’m beginning to finally get an understanding as to why. My boyfriend smokes pot constantly and we never have the windows open or anything, there’s zero ventilation in this house and so when he smokes, it always wafts right into my face and I’m forced to inhale it. It’s disgusting and I hate it and I can’t wait for the day he quits but it seems like that won’t be for a long while now so I just have to suck it up and deal with it, basically (believe me, we’ve had conversations about this time and time again even before we moved in together and he refuses to back down, says he’ll quit eventually but he won’t now. Let’s just say I’ve put up with this for a long time). My anxiety always hikes up, too. Sometimes I feel dizzy, I get this tinge in my chest, and it’s like the sensation of your chair on the verge of tipping over constantly. It’s a rising feeling in your chest that makes you feel like perhaps you might be sick, even though it’s not necessarily local to your esophagus so much as it is to just the pit of your chest, similar to the way you can feel the cold of a sip of ice water extend across your chest. There’s even a semi-sexual aspect to it, as well. There’s a feeling in your pants almost like someone is trying to pleasure you, or at least like your body wants someone to. It’s looking at familiar things and feeling differently, terrifyingly, about them. It’s strange flashes of memory, sensory and vivid. It’s visions triggered by smells and sounds; caramel corn triggering memories of movie theaters and that store in the Germany pavilion in Epcot; one song reminding you of summers spent sunbathing by your childhood best friend’s pool, and another associated with all those sleepovers you had playing Mario Kart and pretending you were vampires. It’s a twisting feeling in your gut remembering the way you once felt about a person, the initial shock and strange new sensation of butterflies in your stomach and viewing them in a very specific way, that made you feel a very specific way. It’s seeing practically everything differently. It’s your eyesight focusing in and out and a dull ache in your head. It’s wringing your hands together, tapping your foot, shifting your body, taking deep breaths, squeezing your water bottle, struggling to swallow back the imaginary rock in your throat. It’s hypochondria, fearing that every little ache or pain in your body is indicative of something fatal. A pain in my arm? Must be having a heart attack. Out of breath? Must have a collapsed lung, or this must be a symptom of secondhand smoke and I’m finally actually killing myself. Headache on one side of my head? Must be a brain tumor. Sore muscle on the right side of your middle back? Must be a kidney issue. Nausea? I guess I‘m gonna get sick. What if I’m pregnant? What if I have food poisoning? What if my piss is so clear because I’m drinking too much water? And what if that’s why I can barely handle drinking anything else now? Because I’ve drank so much water over the years that I’ve ruined my kidneys, fucked up their function so that now they don’t know how to filter toxins out of my body and keep me well? It’s fearing that everything I eat is out to get me. What if this food wasn’t prepared properly? What if there’s too much grease in this, or the grease hasn’t been changed out recently? What if there’s caffeine in this? I can’t have caffeine. What if this has been sitting out for too long and has gone bad already? How long does it take for food to even go bad? Two hours? Two minutes? Two days? What about expiration dates? We’ve gotta keep tabs on expiration dates. How long has this been in here? A week? Even if it’s still good, it’s inherently bad and that means it goes in the trash. And nutrition labels. We need to read nutrition labels. How many calories is that? How can I consume as many calories as possible while eating as little as possible? Is that non-alkalized chocolate? Then it’s not going in my mouth because that’s going to make me sick. What number red dye am I allergic to again? Might as well just avoid the whole spectrum because I can’t fucking remember. It’s everything weighing on me constantly, every little nagging fear and thought and feeling. And it’s constant. It’s so fucking constant. My unease is always constant.

[comfortbucky]

Hey! Can i request a cold, lonely ex-hydra reader × bucky who falls in love with her. Adding some panic attacks and nightmares of the reader.

i love this idea!!! thank u for submitting🥰

𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: avenger!bucky x ex-HYDRA!fem!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers, angst (if u squint), soft!bucky

warnings: canon level violence, description of injuries, blood is mentioned, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares

A/N: i just came up with a random name for the HYDRA leader the reader is after🤣 so just ,,, ignore // also!!!! i tried out a different writing style than what i’m used to! hope u don’t mind🥺 just been feeling like a lot of my writing is the same and wanted to try something new!!!

word count: 3.5k (this is so long LMAO sorry 😭 literally why am i like this)

my masterlist!

completed requests!

The suit that you once considered a second skin, now felt uncomfortable and constricting, like a python squeezing the life out of you. Although, it made sense since the very organization of the uniform you were wearing did exactly that.

HYDRA.

For so long you were just another mindless pawn to them, just doing without every actually thinking. Unlike your younger brother, Alex. They indoctrinated him as well, getting a hold of both of you from a young age, but he was there when Captain America took down S.H.I.E.L.D. and it changed his entire worldview. You found everything he said about “freedom” to be stupid, naive, and dangerous. And you would later prove yourself correct.

You pull yourself from your thoughts as a group of HYDRA soldiers walk past the shrubbery you hid behind. Quickly and quietly, you get up and join them as they march towards the HYDRA base. As soon as you get inside, you manage to slip away from the rest of the group to search for your target.

Since HYDRA took the possibility of you ever having a normal life away, as far as you were concerned, your only purpose in life was to kill the man who was at the center of it all, Viktor Cross. And after months of tracking him down, formulating the perfect plan, that’s exactly what you were going to do today.

You make your way towards one of the main lab facilities, gun in hand when you see several unconscious guards lying on the floor in front of you. Shifting your gaze up, you see that the door has been ripped open, grip marks on the sides.

This was not part of the plan.

As you squeeze through the open door and enter the lab, you come to a halt, frozen in shock. There’s your target, Viktor, shoved against the wall by none other than Captain America himself. You almost let out a chuckle in disbelief at the irony of the situation. Instead, you take a step forward, and the glass cracks beneath your feet, alerting the men of your presence.

Shit.

Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. Viktor’s lips curve into a smirk as you make your way to them.

“Agent- Miss Y/N,” he corrects himself. “What a pleasant surprise.” You ignore him and look to address Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America.

“Let him go and give him to me,” you start, Steve eyeing you cautiously. “So I can kill him,” you snarl, quickly turning to Viktor to see that his smirk had been wiped off his face.

“Aren’t you HYDRA?” He questions, nodding to your suit and eliciting a cackle from Viktor.

“Not anymore,” you mumble, before lifting a leg to kick Steve in his side. You hit him across the face with the end of your gun for good measure. He stumbles over, giving you enough time to grab Viktor’s collar, before he falls to the floor, and slam him back against the wall. His eyes are full of desperation and you felt nothing but pure, burning rage. You shove the barrel of your gun under his chin and place your hand on the trigger.

“You were such a gifted agent, Y/N. Don’t throw away such potential, come back.”

“Go to hell.”

Before you could pull the trigger, a force propels you to the ground and you feel a sharp pain in your side. Silence and then ringing fills your eyes as you squint your eyes to try and visualize the situation. Your vision is blurry, but clear enough to clouds of smoke engulf Viktor’s figure as he escapes. A muffled voice from behind you speaks, but you can’t make out any of the words they’re saying. You look down to see red. Just crimson red, staining your abdomen. Hands land on your shoulders, shaking you gently as your vision fades to black.

Viktor is in front of you, the barrel of his gun directed right at your head. He smirks as he moves his hand to the trigger.

“Hail, HYDRA.”

A gunshot goes off, forcing you to shoot up in bed, gasping for air. As you start to regain your senses, you realize you’re surrounded by a group of strangers. Well, not complete strangers, the Avengers to be exact. Part of your job required you to study their files, learn everything about them. You could recite from memory where and when they were born, their greatest strengths and weaknesses. Suddenly, your side starts to burn with pain, and you carefully lean back in bed. There’s an array of wires and tubes connected to you and you hear the rhythmic beeping of various machines. You’re in a hospital, or some sort of medical facility.

“That, is exactly why I said we should use restraints.”

You’re staring at the ceiling when you hear Iron Man, AKA Tony Stark, speak.

“Tony, she lost a liter of blood, she’s not going anywhere.”

Steve appears in your view, looking down at you.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

You shift your gaze away from him. The last thing you expected to come out of this mission was to meet the Avengers, let alone them save you.

Steve sighs, “We’re not gonna hurt you. We wanna find Viktor too.”

There’s nothing he could say that could get you to speak. Your hatred for HYDRA didn’t mean you suddenly liked the Avengers. If anything, they were part of the problem too, so you stay silent.

“Told you, she’s not gonna talk,” Tony quips. From your research, you had come to learn that he was an arrogant man, and his statement only proved you right. “Maybe you should get Manchurian Candidate to come down, give her an ex-HYDRA buddy,” he says sarcastically.

Upon hearing “ex-HYDRA buddy,” you furrow your brows. Maybe it was the lack of blood in your body, but it took you a second to process his words and understand who he was referring to. Your eyes dart back to look at Steve’s but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back.” His voice trails off as he exits the room.

You’re still staring at the ceiling when you hear footsteps return and then several others departing.

There’s only one other person in the room beside you. Without even looking up, you already know who it is. His breathing was slow and steady until you started to shift in bed to reposition yourself. His breath hitched for a moment, before returning back to his normal breathing pattern.

“Killing him isn’t gonna make you feel better.” His comment makes you roll your eyes as you slowly sit up to look at him. There were no logical thoughts in your head, all you could feel was pain and fury. Anger swelled within you, your emotions boiling over.

“That’s rich, coming from the Fist of HYDRA,” you spat out. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt your stomach drop. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a while. What was it? Regret?

Bucky’s face fell but he kept his eyes on you. It was a look that made you feel worse, worse than the searing pain in your side.

“I’m not a killer anymore,” he said in a tone so gentle, you felt another strange, new emotion but couldn’t quite label it. You quickly shift gears to avoid addressing the uncomfortable feelings swirling around in your stomach.

“Are you keeping me hostage to lure Viktor in? Because it's not going to work." Bucky shook his head.

"We want..." he trailed off, causing you to tilt your head in curiosity. “We need your help finding him.” You scoffed.

“What do I get out of it?” Bucky’s silence gave you your answer. Shaking your head, you start to disconnect yourself from the multitude of wires attached to you and get out of bed.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he started, as you threw off your blanket and sat on the edge of the bed.

Standing up quickly, the blood from your head pooled in your legs, causing you to feel dizzy. Your head spun and your arms reached out for something, anything stable to grab onto. It was a metal hand. Despite it being cool to the touch, it ignited a heat to rise to your cheeks. You look down and mumble a thank you as Bucky helps you back into bed.

Letting out a sigh, you realize with the condition you’re in, you can’t leave. Definitely not well enough to go after Viktor alone. Shutting your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, you curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you finally speak, keeping your eyes closed. Bucky nods, even though you don’t see, and you hear him walk off.

After a couple days of rest, you were cleared by Bruce to get discharged. Viktor had gone deep in hiding, making your job to find him a lot harder. Tony had so graciously given you an extra room in the tower, right next to Bucky’s. He was probably the one person you saw the most, purely due to location, and the fact that everyone else cautiously kept their distance from you. It made sense though, since you rarely spoke to anyone and spent most of your time in the lab looking for any clues of Viktor’s location. When you weren’t searching for him, you were training in the gym. Bucky was there a lot too, both of you waking up at ungodly hours of the morning. No words were ever exchanged between the two of you, and yet, there was some level of comfort you felt being around him. Must’ve been an ex-HYDRA thing.

“What’s on your mind?” You walk over to Alex and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He sighs.

“What if,” he starts, furrowing his brows. “What if freedom is good?” He speaks quietly, fearful of HYDRA listening in on your conversation.

It feels like you’ve got the wind knocked out of you.

“Alex,” you grab him by the shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?” You’re searching his eyes, trying to understand what’s gotten into him.

“Captain America.” The biggest threat to HYDRA’s existence. He looks down at his hands. “He was willing to risk his life for it. It has to be worth something right?” Alex looks back up to you with a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen since you were children. Uncertainty. You sigh and pull him into your chest, stroking his hair.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe.”

You wake up in a cold sweat, panting. Hot tears fall from the corners of your eyes. It’s the same dream you’ve had for the last week. Although, you wouldn’t consider it a dream necessarily, but it wasn’t a nightmare either. Just a bittersweet memory.

Bucky could tell that something was up with you for the past week. Despite having gone through a bit of therapy, Steve’s idea, the nightmares still came to him. So Bucky was already wide awake when he heard your weeping on the other side of the wall. It didn’t help that he was also a light sleeper with super-soldier hearing. He didn’t know what was causing you to be so upset, but he didn’t want to intrude and ask. Neither of you had spoken to the other since you first arrived.

But this night was different from the rest. Usually, you would flip endlessly through channels on ur TV until you eventually fell asleep, but it wasn’t working this time. There’s a tight pain in your chest and suddenly, you’re suffocating. You rip off your covers and spring out of bed, tripping on your blankets along the way. At this point, you don’t even register the pain of slamming down, face-first on the ground. Panic has taken over your body, tears now streaming down your face. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping for relief.

He wasn’t planning on doing anything until he heard a loud thud from your room. Immediately, Bucky gets up and arrives at your door. It’s rude to just barge into someone’s room, his mom taught him that from a young age, so he settles on knocking. You don’t hear it though, the only sound you hear is the sound of your rapid breathing as you hyperventilate. Bucky hears it too and ultimately decides on inviting himself into your room.

“Y/N?”

You’re lying on your side, curled up in a fetal position with your hands covering your face, when Bucky opens the door. He quickly arrives by your side, kneeling beside you, as he examines you for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

You manage to shake your head in response, anxiety still flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, Bucky’s familiar with panic attacks, having had them himself. But he also knows that everyone deals with them a bit differently. Guess he did manage to learn some useful things from therapy.

“Can you try breathing with me?”

He starts to take deep breaths in and out until he sees you start to follow along with him, your hands still covering your face. There’s a part of you that feels stupid for keeping them there, but they help ground you, so you continue to shield your face. After what feels like an hour, but was probably only 10 minutes, your panic subsides. That’s when a wave of embarrassment hits you, realizing that it had been Bucky with you during your panic attack.

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you’re greeted by piercing blue eyes. You blink a couple times, realizing that Bucky had taken a spot on the ground, lying on his side to face you, his hands pressed together under his head like a pillow. He smiles and you feel warm. It’s terrifying, the new feelings that Bucky has caused you to feel and yet, you don’t mind.

“You feelin’ better?” You nod and smile back, something you haven’t genuinely done in a while.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

You stare at each other in silence, lying side by side. There’s no physical touch involved but somehow, this moment, it feels intimate. Bucky breaks the silence.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He speaks in a voice so soft, it almost sounded like a whisper.

It might’ve been the fact that he just calmed you down from a panic attack, but as you looked into his eyes, you felt the walls you had built up for the last year slowly come crashing down.

“He killed my brother,” you reply, maintaining your eyes on Bucky. You searched his eyes for any fear or pity, but all you could find was a look of understanding. His eyes were starting to become a safe place for you.

“Alex was there when Steve took down S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA along with it. He wanted out, out of the organization.” Taking a deep breath, you continue. “Word got around about a “rat,” so I took the blame. Viktor was about to shoot me when Alex’s dumbass ran in front of me, sacrificing himself.” You let out a chuckle, your vision getting blurry as tears swelled in your eyes. “He was a goddamn idiot, but he also had a heart of gold.”

As you start to cry, Bucky hesitatingly extends an arm to hover over your body, trying to gauge your reaction. Physical touch was something he struggled with during the beginning of his recovery, and he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He’s reassured when you grab onto his shirt and pull yourself closer to him, and wraps an arm around you, his other hand softly stroking your head.

You hadn’t cried like this since Alex died, bottling up all of your emotions to focus on finding the man responsible for his death. But as you sobbed into Bucky’s chest, you realize that your love for Alex had transformed into an ugly, burning hatred for Viktor. He wouldn’t want this. You didn’t want it, at least, not anymore. The only thing you wanted was your brother back, and that was impossible.

Bucky held you in his arms until you fell asleep, listening to the sounds of your slow, rhythmic breathing, dozing off shortly after.

That night with Bucky had softened your cold, hard exterior that you initially presented yourself with. You would willingly spar with Nat in the training room and join the team for breakfast or dinner. Everyone noticed and, while at first thrown off by it, happily embraced it. Especially Bucky.

Initially, he got up to work out in the early hours of the morning as a habit. Now, he woke up to see you. His heart did flips in his chest every time he walked in the gym and saw you. Since that night, you started to acknowledge his presence, turning to smile and wave as he walked through the doors. It was something he looked forward to every day.

During the day, you were focused hard on tracking down Viktor and Bucky knew that. But he also knew he wanted to spend more time with you. He looked for reasons to enter the lab, whether it was offering snacks to you throughout the day or helping Bruce or, even Tony. Anything to see you again.

Bucky realized that there was a deeper, stronger emotion that he felt for you when he would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The first thing he thought about was you. Specifically, how you were the only thing that could possibly calm him down. Although he’d come in that night to help you with your panic attack, you ended up helping him as well. He hadn’t slept as soundly and peacefully as he did with you. And you hadn’t either. There were several nights when neither of you could sleep and ended up running into each other. It slowly became a routine that would begin in the kitchen, exchanging life stories, and end on the couch in the common area, entangled in each other’s arms.

Tonight you didn’t show up and Bucky panicked. He stared at the kitchen clock. It had been 20 minutes and you still hadn’t shown up. Bucky racked his brain for anything he could’ve done to scare you off, but came up with nothing. It wasn’t like you two had been officially together, Bucky had no idea what you were to each other. All he knew is that he wanted to be with you, always.

You were soundly asleep in bed, passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. It was a particularly physically exhausting day for you, training with both Nat and Steve.

Bucky was so caught up with the thoughts racing through his head, he hadn’t noticed that his feet had taken him right to your door. He stands there for a moment, silently debating what to do. Grumbling under his breath, he musters up the courage to knock on your door. Right as he was about to turn away and shuffle off to his room, your door opens. You greet him with a yawn and a tired smile.

“Oh, hey Bucky.”

He looks at the bags under your eyes and feels instant regret wash over him, realizing that you weren’t avoiding him, but just getting some sleep.

“Sorry,” he looks down at his feet. You frown and place a hand on his cheek to lift his head up.

“Something wrong?” He avoids your gaze, partially because he’s embarrassed and partially because his cheeks were turning red because of your touch.

“No.” You cross your arms and let out a sigh.

“You’re a bad liar.” It’s his turn to sigh, as he scratches the back of his head.

“You didn’t come to the kitchen,” he lets out, in almost a whisper. It hits you. You were so tired, you had completely forgotten about your nightly tradition. “It’s stupid, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up," he mumbles. Bucky begins to walk off but you grab his hand. When he turns to look at you, his brows are raised at your touch.

As you start to speak, you pull him close, facing you. “It’s not stupid.” His hands move to hold your waist as yours move to wrap around his neck. You pause, an idea popping into your head. “I’m kind of tired from training today, wanna just come sleep with me?” He nods and you drag him to your bed, nestling into his arms as he holds you to his chest, his chin resting above your head. You tilt your head back to see him looking down at you. There’s a fluttering feeling in your chest and you smile.

“Just for future reference, you have an open invitation to cuddle with me, anytime.” Bucky chuckles at your offer.

“I’ll keep that in mind, doll.”

Bucky cups your face in his hand and you nuzzle your cheek in his palm. His eyes dart down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

Then, the most delicate, sweetest kiss you’ve ever received is on your lips.

You flutter your eyes open as you both pull apart. He quickly kisses your nose before pulling you back into his chest, speaking softly.

“And you have an open invitation to kiss me, anytime.”

[the-bjd-community-confess]

i am once again, bonkers, so let me tell you about hobby horses.

guess who got 2 thumbs and 0 adhd medication? it's me again, and i hope you can behoove me a moment of your time. between supply chain issues and my state's particularly heinous concept of medication management i am once again an uncontrolled amount of chaos. and so while i attempt to once again access a medication that we have been producing for actual decades (I LIVE NEAR A COMPOUNDING PHARMACY AND /yET/) i am here to tell you about hobby horses, because someone in the comments asked me to do so. is this doll related? tangentially, because i have also purchased scale model hobby horses for my dolls. truly you can find anything if you query a google in the right place. 

(you can put a readmore here if you want mod! i would.)

for starters, there is a real documentary called Hobbyhorse Revolution that goes over a lot of this- the people in the hobby, what drew them to it, and so forth. for many people, this is an organized sport, and honestly it's pretty athletically impressive. hobbyhorsers jump like basketball players it's something else, but i digress. there are people of all ages who took up the stickhorse and ran with it, from young folks doing hobbyhorse dressage to older folks making artisanal horse heads. it's one of those hobbies, much like our own, that draws a diverse range of interests and skillsets and gives them something to project those interests onto. you like to craft? make your own horse! you like to do photography? hobby-horseback photography is a genre now. want to pick up a fun new sport? just think they're cute? you're in good company! it's honestly pretty wholesome.

people form communities, they name their horses and give them personalities, and for many, this is a vital outlet for their mental health. sure, it's weird horse larping on the surface, but there's a lot of good to be found! but what drew Me to the hobby is this: at first, it was simply "wait, people do /what/??" the novelty blew me away! but i also came to respect the people involved- the artistry, the athleticism, the camaraderie, and most importantly, the commitment to just- do something because it's fun, never mind if it's cringey. listen- i've been on this bitch of an earth for a multitude of decades at this point, and if i've learned anything, it's that one would be wise to take whatever serotonin they can get in this life, especially in current year.

i think the world would genuinely and honestly be a better place if more people just went for it and stopped worrying about how other people will react- at least when it comes to harmless shit like this. people spend so much emotional bandwidth trying not to stand out too much, trying to be appealing, trying to be normal, but... aren't you tired of being nice? don't you wanna go apeshit? in the process of growing up, a lot of us forget how to have fun and do things for the pure unfettered fuck of it- and i think after the last few years in particular- and especially with how dire so many things are right now- we need to learn to play around again. it's not... irresponsible to stop doomscrolling and spend some time brushing doll hair or walking through the woods carrying a horse head on a stick, it's vital to being a person that we get away from the all-staring void of despair and do something that makes life worth living now and then.

we can't be there for people if we aren't okay ourselves... whatever gets you through the day, no matter how small or silly it may be, cling onto that and take your happiness deliberately.  listen, i'll wrap up this blogpost here, but the long and the short of it is this: we're all weird and cringey. we collect dolls. as someone who visibly cannot fit into mainstream society, you either live under a rock or you say Fuck It and make your weirdness everyone else's problem to cope with. and i've lived under the rock, folks! it's miserable and full of despair! so my earnest advice is Fuck It, everyone! buy the horse head on the stick. take your dolls out for that photoshoot you've been thinking about for weeks now. wear that fursuit or that lolita coord or that cosplay and get some starbucks- as someone who's worked retail, seeing that shit would make my WEEK.

replace the shame in your life with an appreciation for whimsy, and let's all try to learn to have fun again! (and sure, it ain't easy... i've spent too much of my life, shall we say, trying to justify the cost of my own survival. i still do not like myself in a broad sense. i still have many difficult days, especially recently, because once again i do not have access to my medication! (if this was insulin or blood thinner, I Would Be Fuckening Dead! but people do not consider The Brain to be an actual thing requiring treatment the way we do the heart.) but despite the many, many things that are Bad in this world and my life... it's the little things that make it bearable. and i hope that all of y'all can find something similar, whether it's dolls, hobby horses, or something else entirely. be cringe. be free. be WHOLE. and in the meantime, i'm gonna continue to be bonkers. let's hope i can get my medication before the summer gets here! and anyone else impacted by this, my condolences. hang in there. i'm sorry it's like this. we'll get through it, yeah? yeah. we got this.

~Anonymous

[thebibliosphere]

hi, feel free to ignore if this is over stepping, but how might someone be able to tell if they have MCAS? I have a friend who's always had a wide range of allergies and recently she has taken a bit of a turn for the worse, she's currently on day 5 of continuous migraines and has been pretty much debilitated for over a week with no known cause. She's nervous about going to the hospital about it and I thought having something to suggest once she's there might make her feel better

There are tests for MCAS, but they’re not always conclusive and it’s unlikely an ER would run them. But just in case, she could ask for a tryptase test, it’s a simple blood draw to see if something is going on there. If she shows unusually elevated levels, that could signify elevated mast cell response and warrant further testing. But again, it’s not conclusive. I test negative every time, but still have an MCAS diagnosis from clinical evaluation from a specialist and the fact that I respond to a low histamine diet and mast cell stabilizers. (My allergist refutes this diagnosis, but that’s because he doesn’t actually understand MCAS and has severe “chronic illness is a mindset” bias, the dick.)

The other tryptase test requires a 24 hour urine sample to be collected and kept on ice, and usually a specialized lab who knows how to handle the test without compromising the results. The hospital might be able to do this, but I’ve never had access to it in an ER type situation.

I cannot give medical advice as to what she can do for her issues at home, but I can tell you that I take h1 and h2 blockers to help stabilize my flares. H1 blockers are things like Zyrtec or Claritin. I try to avoid any that contain decongestants, as they can mess with blood pressure, and can make my postural migraines worse.

H2 blockers are things like Zantac (currently off the shelves) and Pepcid, which doesn’t work as well as Zantac imo, but is better than nothing. H2 blockers work to block the histamine receptors in the esophagus and can provide relief from the symptoms of mast cell disorder problems in the throat and gut. It is generally considered safe to take both these things at once, but you should always check with a doctor or pharmacist first. Benadryl may also be useful on top of these meds for people with MCAS. (Antihistamine overdose is possible, always check the dosage and if in doubt, talk to a pharmacist or physician.) Sodium cromoglicate is another mast cell stabilizer some folks do well with. (I’m not one of them.)

It is important to note that daily h1 and h2 blockers are symptom management, and not long term fixes. The only way to recover from mast cell activation syndrome is to find out your triggers and or root cause. Some people seem to be born with it, others develop mast cell instability after things like mold exposure, heavy metal poisoning or prolonged trauma. Others can develop it with gut disorders like SIBO. Treating those things can help put MCAS into remission for some individuals. (Nb: this is debated in some circles, but the condition is still so “new” there’s debate about nearly all of it.)

Low vitamin D should also be investigated for people with worsening allergies. Vit D keeps mast cells healthy and functional, and can help people who don’t have MCAS to not have quite as sucky allergies. The more you know!

There’s a multitude of things I’m missing, but this is kind of the rough guide to things to ask a doctor about. Working with a qualified dietician who is aware of histamine intolerance may also be beneficial in the long term. Low histamine diets are very low in nutritional value and can be dangerous long term, so that’s also something to be aware of.

I hope your friend gets relief soon, and that the hospital staff are kind and helpful. Good luck.

[wifeguycyclonus]

HI HI am VERY passionate medic!hot rod enjoyer here to spread the good word

Brain is mush and I am very new to your blog so I won’t take up too much of your time BUT!! I like to think Hot Rod learned medicine for a multitude of reasons in IDW (Nyon, both in its destruction and original destitution, a genuine desire to Help, his values which boil down to “death is a tragedy and if it’s avoidable, should be, everyone has value” etc) But his only bargaining chip to learn was that he’s really fast! So he taught himself to move through battlefields as quickly and undamaged as possible so he could make the argument that he reaches patients first - and this is one of the reasons he’s constantly moving in combat situations, never really pausing to think and plan because people are dying out there and he’s never been the planning type anyway. And I mean, it worked, and he’s Primus’ favorite OC so everyone just kinda rolled with the assumption that his ridiculous luck would stop him from getting hit, so. Why mess with what ain’t broke?

It’s 1:40 am I am so sorry hopefully I’m coherent

Ayyy another medic!Hot Rod enjoyer!

First of all, excited and flattered that you decided to say something. I’ve not been much into tfs at the moment but medic!Hot Rod remains near and dear to me always.

Secondly, I wholeheartedly agree with everything you said. He’s very passionate and caring and always wants to help, but that can be hard to do when you’re as energetic and flighty as he is. So how to combine that drive to help with his need for speed? Field medic. Gets to the injured faster than Ratchet or anyone else can, and while he’s not the most skilled medic (it’s hard to sit still and learn and not many people want to teach him anyway), he absolutely saves lives other medics wouldn’t have gotten to in time. It might be sloppy work by Ratchet’s standards, but if it’s saving lives it’s good enough for Hot Rod. (And even with the somewhat sloppiness, he fixes problems that may have been originally unrelated to the injury bc he just can’t help himself.)

And yes he’s definitely Primus’ fave. He’s got amazing dumb luck combo’ed with raw talent and an eye for details others tend to overlook. Other mechs don’t understand half the things he does and tend to only see his screw ups, but most of what he does is actually very good and helpful. He’s an indispensable soldier and medic but he’s not the greatest team player, a very loose cannon type person. He tries not to be because he knows it upsets people, but he just can’t help it, y’know? Why sit still when it’s obvious Primus wants him to be helping? Others are reluctant to let him do his thing, since he’s so chaotic, but when he’s doing good he does good, so yeah it’s dumb to try and stop him. Not like he’ll sit still anyway.

Ah hopefully that’s coherent, I’m not good at putting my thoughts into words lol. Gonna go to my grave maintaining that Hot Rod is absolutely medic material and a tf continuity should give him a go at it.

[cwarscars]

Heidegger’s Mental & Physical Health Part 1/?

i feel this is a pretty essential headcanon to place here because i like to keep people updated with what the fuck is going on with muses bodies (and heidegger, oof man -)

i actually headcanon a lot of his anger issues come from his health issues, so let’s get into it. 

mental

ptsd (diagnosed as a younger man) // heidegger’s ptsd is quite complex & is something he does not accept. try to give him medication or therapy and he will absolutely throw them back in your face. he does not believe he has ‘anything wrong with him’. he absolutely does. this man has nightmares / flashbacks, certain things and sights ‘trigger’ him. however, his ‘triggering’ isn’t the modern day examples we see *people shaking, crying etc*. heidegger reacts with rage. he wont get upset or cry or have a traditional ‘anxiety attack’ - his anxiety attack is to get extremely aggressive and lash out at people. this started as a young man in his mid twenties and has never gone away.

alcohol-abuse // only slight, but certain prevalent in later years. heidegger begins to rely on alcohol to take him out of the moment, especially so after president shinra’s death (and just before, too). this is - if i’m honest - my excuse for heidegger’s poor decision making and his tense relationship with shinra (the old man clocked on to heidegger’s alcoholism). 

physical

heart problems / high blood pressure // caused from a multitude of things ranging from long-ago diagnosed anxiety issues (not anxiety as we know it, but a side effect of ptsd. heidegger wont admit to this, mind you). but also caused by an overactive life style as a young man (he played rugby and was a soldier) and also exploits as an older man (heidegger’s partial to a cheeky donut, just ask scarlet). 

oncoming-arthritis / muscle & joint pain // the man has been in MANY fights in the past & has always been a soldier or on the front line in some capacity. he’s sustained so many injuries over time and done so much damage to himself that now he’s pushing sixty, the pain is really there from his old injuries.