#also horrible ocd flare ups

[bluewaterlily]

You ever have one of those weeks where everything reminds you of your trauma?

[dragjunkie23]

My OCD has been full on horrible lately as I stress about things going on in my life. I won't go into detail about what my intrusive thoughts have been lately because I do not wanna trigger someone who also has OCD or other mental disorders that deal with similar issues.

Let me just say this: it's been hell. Stresses of personal life changes have contributed to these flare ups. Hoping that new opportunities that are coming up will go through smoothly and occupy my brain so I'm not just alone in my thoughts.

I do want to also say a special thank you to @alysinwonderland-at-tea as they have been there to comfort me through the flare ups when they could. Thank you.

[cobaltsoulsearcher]

After first starting the show in January during a months long bout of ilness and getting 46 episodes into M9 as a way to stay awake, binging LOVM, and jumping to C3 after the Laudna in Whitestone Arc…

I have now caught up to campaign three. Which is insane. I have spent the last six months in a critical role blender. Time is a wierd soup.

Some of that time, I’ve felt really bad about it, as (like everything) an imperfect fandom, with my OCD trying to latch on to every bit (both small and unfortunately huge) of drama. But even then, I didn’t have an excuse; the cast has been extremely clear not to forget to love each other, that struggles are human, and that even these painful stories are meant to be sources of community and joy. For the first time, my own brain had no choice but to shut up and listen.

I’ve been triggered by character’s struggles too close to my own. But the fact they were so similar drove me to huge realizations: It got me to protect myself in a relationship everyone around me told me had way too many red flags. I’m still in that relationship, because I have compassion for the other person, and CR has been monumental in giving me the strength to do this, too.

It’s made me so intensely lonely, and jealous, never having had friends like that, not having hope in my ability to make them, either. But it also got me through that loneliness, through flares and being so tired I didn’t want to live and my first college semester where I wasn’t allowed to do horrible things to cope, and it let me be happy, let me be hopeful. It’s made me want to have things to look forward to in the short and the long term, and half of those things were either inspired by CritRole or the actors, or I had the courage to do them knowing I could put their voices on in my headphones and calm down and have a safe Exandria to escape to.

I fear when it isn’t as big a part of my life anymore. But I also realize that its existence is a huge huge gift I have been given and few works of art will ever have the opportunity to have so great an impact on my life.

I am far from the only critter with such a story, and if you want to share yours, I’d be glad for it. But this is my sincere thank you to every cast member and everyone who has encouraged them and every fan artist and every random corporate intern who convinced their boss to sponsor an episode and every cameraman and everyone who sent something for Critmas in the early days and made this a touch more real

[rubin-therubix-loverofblorbos]

You think I'm the best? Aww.

Also you said that Spy was disabled due to his ballet career and I was wondering do you have any other disabled HeadCanons?

wy can't Ihug ascreen. devastated,

Engie: Carpal tunnel/Neurodivergencies/Deafness. He made himself a wrist brace out of metal scraps and fabric and somehow it's comfortable. He barely remembers to stop working when it flares up because y'know. It's Engie. He also has horrible hearing and made himself some hearing aids because, again, it's Engie. Also, on the topic of Being Engie™️, he is the worst of the group regarding mental disabilities. OCD, ADD, ADHD, Schizophrenia, Medic even thinks he has Apotemnophilia {He has a weird kink about replacing his limbs with mechanical shit and it worries people. It is most likely rooted in his self-hatred and kind of weird Self-Capragras. What do you MEAN you want me to pretend I'm going to tear you apart gruesomely and leave you to put yourself back together buddy? What The Fuck Do You Mean By That?} But the difference between him and the others? He takes his medication, flat out. Never misses a day except for the day after New Year's when they have to restock. Also, I forgot he only has one hand and ALSO made himself an eye because he got fucked up in a workplace accident [he screwed up on a bigass machine and it blew the fuck up in his face]. So.

Soldier: Vision {Tunnel, has a bad eye}/Neurodivergencies/Deafness/Speech{stutters real bad when he's excited}. [TRIGGER WARNING FOR CHILD DEATH, ABUSE, AND JUST PLAIN HORRIBLENESS} He has. problems.Many problems. Bipolar veteran Dad pushed his face into hot oil, killed his mother, and, when realizing what he did, killed himself. Soon after, Jane was put into an ADULT asylum since he was seventeen and they didn't have any room left. He Was Put Into A Strait Jacket And Muzzle At SEVENTEEN, deemed unsafe and unstable. He now has brain damage. He was on his way to graduating early and had been accepted into Harvard. He wanted to be a lawyer. Had a transfemme friend who was in the Hiroshima bombing and had the pattern of their kimono burnt into their skin. One day, that friend escaped to go to a Pride parade. They didn't come back. Jane now has abandonment issues, but it gets worse. Later, on the news, they say that three children were killed due to police brutality. Jane is terrified, but thinks they made it out. Soon, they show a bloody pulp of a person on-screen, facial features unrecognizable. But they have the pattern of their Kimono burnt into the one patch of skin left untouched. Jane has issues. He found a seven-year-old, Perdita, alone and he took her in, because that's how he is. Raised her to the age of twelve, then he shot her dead because he was having an attack and thought she was his father. Closed his eyes and shot until his gun was empty, only hearing her screaming when he ran up to hold her in his arms. He lies awake, every night, wondering. She wanted to be a lawyer too. Wow. I spent so much time on his story I forgot to explain literally anything else. fuck.

Spy: Vision/Neurodivergencies/Walking. As we know, he broke his hip doing ballet. but he ALSO has trauma from being a hitchhiking prostitute. He also also has asymmetrical eyes, which mess up his vision sometimes. He Also also also has allodynia, which makes him hate being touched. He seeks attention because after his parents died he found out how privileged he was and how nobody really cares anymore. Bad separation issues.

Sniper: Neurodivergancies/fantasy illness i invented don't worry about it. The dude has perfect aim he hyperfocuses on that shit like crazy. Sniper is one of the better guys, though he has a mild case of anorexia and has had flat-out Cotard's ever since Medic gave him an autopsy. No, he's not like Engie where we're not sure, he has been diagnosed and given medication. He also has small eyes, but it doesn't affect anything, really. OH also SEVERE Genophobia from a misinformating Ex that kept telling him sex was fucking agonizing for the bottom and assaulted him. Violently. Until he was unconscious. He doesn't remember anything but the fear, not even the pain, just how scared he was. A lot of scars on his inner thighs from the guy slashing him with a dagger. Was a virgin until he was 41 and went fuckin insane when his hymen broke {it broke during his assault but was surgically repaired} because oh god he was right I'm gonna bleed until I die oh fuck oh shit. Was okay afterwards, but he's still shaken by that

Heavy: Neurodivergencies. Has a bit of an issue about his father getting eaten by a bear when he was a kid but y'know. In Mother Russia, you don't fuck the bear up the. the bear fucks you up. this is also applicable to any other place that has bears when you don't have a gun.

Pyro:

Demo: Neurodivergencies/His blood is legit alcohol. I mean they all have autism, but Demo has weird autism. that makes him like alcohol a lot. A lot. Demo's are always short because we all know what's going on with him.

Scout: Neurodivergencies/Cerebral Palsy. ADHD little mf. Was also born with cerebral palsy but it wasn't severe enough to keep him from being able to walk, in fact he loves running, as we know.

Medic: Hm. is made of multiple different people's body parts. dunno what that does for him tbh. Was born with severe facial deformities and has a slanted skull to this day because his twin {who was attached to him at the head and calf} died and had to be cut off of him. He talks to himself often and we don't know if he's just being himself or if a little bit of the other's brain was left in there. He also has Tourettes and his most common tic is a short but of maniacal laughter. etcetera. because this is definitely not the only things wrong with him

[schizosupport]

hello! i was wondering if i could get some advice. im a minor who isnt really able to get any sort of psychiatric aid or get any of my problems diagnosed but i think ive been struggling with delusions really badly lately. since i was a kid ive always been the sort to see stuff that isnt there and get phantom sensations of things grabbing me (which are inconvenient but ive learned to ignore them for the most part) but worse than that is ive always had a very intense fear/belief that like. the government was stalking me. or just of being stalked in general. i kind of forgot for a while because this sorta stuff comes and goes but when trump got almost shot my fbi delusion flared up HORRIBLY because i thought "people are talking about this>the fbi will see i follow them and Get me." i was terrified. i was kind of aware that i was being irrational and that it was probably a delusion but that knowledge didn't help at all. i think on top of that i may have some other mental health problems too like ocd or autism but im not in a situation where i can get professional help for it. any advice? ways to cope? ill tale anything lol. thank you so much for having this blog by the way, its very helpful for folks in my situation since its difficult to find clear accurate info sometimes.

Hi there! Sorry it's taken me quite a while to get back to you. I hope you are feeling better now, but I know there's a lot going on in the US politically, and I'm sorry it's triggering your delusions on top of just being generally stressful and scary.

I wish I had a package or pamphlet that I could share with people in your situation, there truly is a lack of coping resources geared at people who struggle with psychosis.

For me, having a community of like minded people helped a lot, it's one of the reasons why my schizotypy server is so important to me. If that's something you think might help you, you're welcome to send me a dm on @neuroglitch and I'll send you an invite to a discord server for people on the psychosis and schizo spec.

I also believe I've collected a few resources over the years, so if I can find a collection of them I'll edit it into this response later.

Best of luck!

[compassionatereminders]

This might seem kinda dumb, but I need to rant a lil. No need to respond if you can't rn, and also cw for imposter syndrome, anxiety issues and talking about suicidal ideation.

I worry a lot about being fake mentally ill - a few years back, I had really severe OCD (the obsession being based on a certain crime, don't wanna say which bc it's taboo as hell but yeah). But since then, it's calmed down significantly - I still have minor episodes that flare up about morality issues and past mistakes, ranging from a few hours to a few days at a time and I've had on and off obsessions about my sexuality for years.

I also used to really struggle taking care of myself back in middle school, and that's probably when the depressive episodes started to get bad - I was never sure I had clinical depression, but I did have varying levels of suicidal ideation and such. That's also since lifted a bit.

I guess I just...feel guilty calling myself neurodivergent. I feel guilty saying I deal with anxiety, or OCD, or even just depressive thoughts bc since they've lightened and I'm more capable of self-care, I feel like a fraud saying that I "have OCD" when most episodes nowadays only last a few days at a time with the severity not as bad. Like, before, I didn't even wanna leave the house - sometimes my room - if certain people were over. Now I can easily be around those people most of the time, and brush off thoughts that make me uneasy for the most part.

It's moreso moved on from on major obsession to a bunch of smaller ones that sorta come and go, ranging from social justice issues to something like spiritual beliefs and existential stuff. Also, semi-related social anxiety.

But I just...feel horrible saying I'm neurodivergent. I feel like I'm not "dysfunctional" enough to be those things, which makes me ALMOST tempted enough to prove I am, which wouldn't be healthy either.

Sorry if this is a bad time, just...ugh.

You cannot fake something by accident, so the mere fact that you are afraid of being a faker is definite proof that you are not. If you were faking this you'd know. It takes deliberate ongoing effort

[hussyknee]

I screamed at Mum and told her she was a curse on us all and I wish she'd die.

I feel so horrible about it. And so depressed that I feel horrible about it. The woman is an abusive witch that made our lives living hell. Why do I have to struggle with this sick feeling at the pit of my stomach because I used the switch in power between us to bully her back? How is that fair?

But all I remember is how she looked so small and weak and unhappy, unable to even sit up on her own, in pain but refusing to take her meds because she was so miserable from the nausea, reflux, constipation, dry throat and cracked and peeling lips. How she cried when I screamed at her that she had done this to herself, that I wouldn't take her to hospital again if she started dying from refusing her medication, and my life would be so much better if she did. How my sister, who had been commiserating with me about her all this time, shoved me out of the room and slammed the door in my face.

Today my sister got the news that her husband has suffered a minor stroke too– intracranial hemorrhage. He's in his 30s, so no idea why. Says his head never stops aching. This means that, after a month of her running interference with Mum so I didn't have to, she's now back with her in-laws.

I'm really tired and nauseous and having a flare. I think I may have had one for some time but was too out of it to notice till now. But my fuckin OCD brain insists it's karmic justice for having Done Something Wrong by being the same kind of power-tripping, unempathetic bully as my parents.

Badly want to reach out to a friend but I don't have spoons to figure out the appropriate responses to people trying to make me feel better. I feel exhausted whenever they ask how I'm doing as it is. I'm not doing well and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Their cat pictures just remind me I'm failing to look after mine, and their dog pictures remind me I haven't been able to visit mine at my ex's in over a month. I went to buy groceries and meds last evening and I'm still wiped, so getting out of the house is also off the table. Nothing helps, I'm sick of whinging, and I don't know when any of this will change.

[marshmallowprotection]

OCD anon here again;;; (sorry..)

I had a flare up today and was convinced that no matter how many times I washed my hands, I couldn't get my dog's 'germs' off - I'd been playing with her in the garden, throwing a little ball which of course got wet and slimy with her mouth - usually I'm okay with washing my hands a few times, then a few scrubs antibacterial wipes, all good!

But oh man, today

Mind you, things were no different to any other day, not at all

I must've just been feeling particularly anxious about something which I can't remember because as soon as the flare up hits everything else is nothing compared to it

Well

I basically thought everything in my house was infected with dog germs. If I touched anything, a sofa, tv remote, chair, kitchen counter - it was there.

I hadn't touched anything.

Everything was fine.

I had to call in my parents to tell me that everything was fine.

Many, many times.

Are you sure?

Are you sure?

But - but -

Eventually I calmed down about my entirely spotless surroundings and just ended up washing my hands at least three more times until I was satisfied

Until I thought that I was okay.

Which of course...I was the whole time.

The worst thing is hindsight, when you look back on yourself and are like I'm so stupid and dumb. Replaying even that in your head.

But - here I go again with a Saeran request ~

I'll never stop feeling guilty for putting my parents through my antics almost every single day.

I'm like a whining leech, I must be...infuriating.

Actually, I know that I am.

Well, I know that my parents won't ever fully understand what it's like. But it does hurt when they sigh and puff and get very visibly irritated, and even laugh sometimes at my checking, like '...really? Come on.'

Oh yeah! What I meant to say all along was Saeran -

Kait, you and your writings are such a great comfort to all of us here.

But the way you write Saeran is just...perfect. I wanted to thank you for that! <3

Especially because what you've written for me before - even though you don't even have to answer - really cheers me up when I'm feeling skittish.

So I...I um - I'd really love a little cuddle and squeeze from Saeran today...and just go and lie on my bed and with all the lights down or even just off, so nothing's too jarring or distracting...

And just kind of nuzzle into him and cuddle all nice and warm and cozy!

... >.< <3 <3

On the worst days, that's when you can count on GE Saeran to hold you. he knows what you must be feeling when you give him that look that says all he needs to know about it. He hates that there isn't very much he can do to help you feel comfortable with your fears. But, he knows that being there for you, being sympathetic and considerate... that's really what matters to your needs is what matters at the end of the day.

You need someone who gets it and doesn't question why you must do something a dozen times to feel comfortable. He doesn't want the pain to get so bad that you wind up hurting yourself through any of it. Compulsions are hard to combat, and he doesn't want you to think of how you might make things harder on yourself.

What's important is that you have a safe space to feel what you need to feel. It doesn't matter how horribly silly you think you sound when the germs are close, to him it's something that people need to take seriously. You're not comfortable. It doesn't take much to make some minor adjustments for your sake.

Sure, you'll also need to work on some of your habits. But, putting all the work on your shoulders now and nobody else will never improve things. There are ways everyone can pitch in to make you feel safe in your body. It doesn't take much to be considerate. That's how Saeran feels about it.

He won't judge you when you come to him in tears about how tough it was for you to deal with your compulsion today.

He has an open-arm policy ready for you when you need him to be there. What do you need him to do? He'll do whatever you ask so things feel cleaner and safe, and he'll even wait for you to run through your steps so you're not alone when you need to repeat something a few times.

Mainly, he's just there when you need to be compressed in a hug that doesn't feel like you're suffocating. Which, sometimes, that's the best medicine for you. You just want to have no stimuli but the rocking of his heartbeat. The feeling of his hand stroking down your back is the best thing you could ever ask for, right?

"No matter how alone you feel in your fears, I will never leave you to suffer alone in the darkness. I will always be here to lull you to peace until you feel ready to come back to the light," he will murmur against the sound of your heartbeat. "Even if we fall into the darkness on the bad days, there will always be time to find the warmth later. But, for now, let's find peace from the cold together... until you feel ready to talk about it."

[hypersexual-edd]

I'm gonna bitch some more feel free to ignore it

The Problem has not gone away but it HAS compounded stupidly with my hormones to both be typically inconvenient but ALSO to make my trauma flare ups too bad to do anything physical. Period. The shame has jumped through the roof so I can't even Think about wanting anything without feeling like i should cry and throw up. I don't know how to talk about anything to do with it and i feel horrible that anyone even knows I'm Having these kinds of issues. Like, the rest of my mental health is doing better but this specific thing is kind of a dumpster fire and is whipping my OCD tendencies into a froth. I hate it. I do not like that I have this thing. I have to stop typing now bc the Shame Hell is coming for me

[talyas-train-blog]

Can I please have some headcanons on The Star Tugs? (And maybe also the Z-Stacks if you want to)

Since you didn't really specify what you wanted i figured I delve into their personal lives a little.

⚠️Warnings⚠️ talks of mental illness and disabilities

Btw any talk of anxiety, autism, PTSD ect are from my personal experiences with it and how I interpret characters and the way they act bc of my past.

Star Fleet

Tencents

Tencents has always struggled with anger issues since he was little.

He wouldn't hurt people but he had issues with a short temper and short patience which would result in him throwing wooden blocks when he was little and snapping and kicking pieces of Wood around the port now and punching walls and wood slabs.

He punched the side of his boat once, dented the damn thing and almost shattered his hand. Hercules wrapped his hands to stop the bleeding and had a very long discussion about anger management with TenCents after.

Tencents also has partial paralysis in his right arm and hand after the munitions accident but it isn't horrible. Only when it flairs up under anxiety or anger.

Also struggles with anxiety and slight PTSD after the Munitions accident.

Big Mac

Also suffers from Anger issues but to a higher extreme than TenCents.

But Big Mac also has had more time to get control of the anger issues.

Tends to take his anger out by cussing in his native language

Oj

Struggles with anxiety, and slight PTSD from almost being scrapped a few times

Has gotten help for both of the conditions and has learned to help himself calm down when things get bad.

Likes to paint or bake to help himself calm down and always ends up giving someone something.

Tophat

Suffers from Bipolar disorder and probably has abandonment issues.

Bipolar Disorder runs on his dads side of the family which is the side he takes after.

He has abandonment issues because growing up he was always held up to his older brother Hercules achievements and accomplishments and eventually his parents basically stopped paying attention to him.

He doesn't really have a way to calm himself down except for storming away from the situation and moping.

Rarely he has a cigarette to calm down to Hercules' dismay.

Warrior

Suffers from ADD, potentially Autism and a minor case of short term memory loss (stml)

His ADD makes it hard for him to learn and grasp onto things, paired with a learning disability he always struggles with school and learning.

His STML more or less comes through in his inability to remember how to say things and things like forgetting names a lot and how to certain things.

He lives with his brother Big Mac so he doesn't get hurt and in turn Warrior actually watches over Big Mac.

Side note when you get Warrior on a topic he is  passionate about you'll see that cery sweet and charming side come out.

Hercules

Anxiety, Depression, and PTSD

His anxiety stems from his home life as a child. It runs on his moms side of the family and he takes after her. It got worse throughout his early preteen and all throughout his teenage years because he was held up to high standards and felt horrible about how often his parents forgot his little brother (Tophat)

His depression and PTSD stems from seeing his dad almost die and struggle with alcoholism for a while.

His depression and PTSD also stems from being in the navy.

This poor man has been shot a few times and has been caught by fire and fallen off boats into frigid waters. He's lost close friends and seen a lot.

It doesnt bother him all that often as he has gotten help and has learned from OJ but when it flares up the only people that seem to help are his brother and son.

Sunshine

Separation anxiety, and a lisp

Sunshine has gone through a lot and been separated from people he trusts multiple times so when he does warn up he gets attached and it too worried to go to far from his family or friends.

Sunny was born with a slight lisp, he has always had it and never was ashamed of it.

Hercules and Big mac are helping him with his anxieties and he's gotten much better.

Z-stacks

Zorran

Anger issues.

Has always struggled with anger issues and he was brought up in a house where he basically got whatever he wanted and his mom wouldn't discipline him but his dad did.

Hasnt done anything to get help or try and work on anger management and has no real interest in it.

Most likely has other underlying conditions.

Zebedee

Depression and potential OCD

Zebby had a very rough home life, his dad passed when he was young and his mom worked multiple jobs while raising him, his baby brother and baby sister.

His mom raised him to be responsible, respectful, hard working and most importantly loving.

His depression makes the last part a little difficult as he struggles to let his guard down.

His potential OCD shows when he gets upset when he tries to do things on his own or gets very upset when something isn't done exactly how he wants it.

It's not a very severe case which is why it's kind of hard to say if he has it or not but it's there.

Zak

Anger issues

That's it, he's struggled with anger issues since he was a teen.

After being bullied he got involved in a group of bad kids and tampered with drugs and became semi aggressive afterwards.

Zug

there's nothing he really struggles with. He's just kind of a sneaky shit head.

Zip

ADHD

ADHD runs in his family and it's very common in the men in the family so it was expected that he had it.

Zip and his little brother Zaxary were homeless growing up so by the time his ADHD really started to show through they didn't have the chance to diagnose him.

[postmoderntongues]

I have very severe OCD that manifests in a lot of different ways but it includes intrusive thoughts about hurting vulnerable things.  These thoughts are COMPLETELY SEPARATE from my violent thoughts brought on by anger, it feels totally different in my brain, wrath feels indulgent and the intrusive thoughts feel like an electric shock (my brain skips a step in the logic process and goes right to “it is possible for you to do a bad thing” so if I hold a small animal I imagine myself crushing it, or if im around a child ill have intrusive thoughts of hurting it, but it is usually things like pushing it over or hurting its feelings)

My uncle who molested me as a child is once again living with us, and it has triggered a lot of shit, and because Im in a state of panic relating to sexual abuse, the intrusive thoughts ive been dealing with are increasingly sexual in nature and now regularly include flashes of children I care about being abused by a “shadow man” placeholder.  Other times, even worse, I imagine the acts being committed by somebody I love and trust (my brother, B, my dad, etc) or on a few rare horrible occasions by myself.  Similar intrusive thoughts also flared up after the first time I was sexually assaulted as a teenager who understood what was happening.

I was groomed by predatory adults to believe I was a “harmless pedophile” (nomap/virtuped wasnt a thing at the time) in Jr high because I wrote fiction revolving around my trauma (especially when memories of very early abuse started being recovered or during particularly bad PTSD flair ups, art has always been my coping mechanism) that their gross asses probably jerked off to while lovebombing me telling me what an amazing writer I was.  I myself was a (late-developing, very emotionally immature) minor at the time who was not yet sexually active or interested in sex, but Id had little harmless child-crushes on some of my peers a year or two younger than me so I fell for their brainwashing until I was about 16.  

Whenever I have what I now know to be intrusive thoughts about children, i get a wave of panic that “maybe those nice people on the internet who doted on me during the loneliest part of my teens and made me feel grown-up and mature and special really were trying to help me and I AM a monster” and it sends me on a suicidal spiral. 

This post didn’t really have a point other than fuck MAPs, if you allow them to congregate they will make it a group effort to groom vulnerable children and convince them that symptoms of their debilitating mental illness is actually a sign of being dangerous to children.

[one-possible-erin]

As far as the wizard game goes, if someone reams a person out for merely WANTING to play it, I kind of think they’re the one being a jerk. And I lean toward “giving JKR money at this point is not great,” FWIW, but I feel like a lot of people on this site seem to regard personal media consumption as the pinnacle of morality in a way that does not make sense to me.

But that aside -- most times, at least in my experience with OCD, the intrusive thought is fundamentally not about believing or wanting that thing. It’s about being SCARED that I believe or want that thing, specifically BECAUSE I am horrified by the idea of believing or wanting that thing. Yes, that sounds cracked and fundamentally makes no sense, but that’s how OCD is! It’s a super shitty mental illness that inherently makes no sense!

Your dad handled it great when you had the scary thought about hurting the fish, IMO. I have also occasionally, over the years, had intrusive thoughts about harming a beloved dog in a horrible way, and it was beyond awful. Today, when my OCD is under much better control, I am able to say that it’s 100% not because I wanted to harm my pet. Unfortunately, when I was a kid who was not diagnosed or even aware that this form of OCD was a thing, the thought “stuck,” as someone else put it, and I was terrified that having the thought meant either that I secretly wanted to hurt my pet or would actually do it somehow against my own will, and lay awake sobbing and terrified while also feeling like I could never ever let anybody know, because I was raised in a particularly literal-minded Christian denomination that said thinking something was morally the same as doing it. 

In the early stages of discovering what OCD was (in, like, college, so bunches of years of this), I was incredibly relieved to learn that the distress these intrusive thoughts caused me was evidence that no, I in fact did not want or believe the thing that was causing me anguish. So for a short time, I relied on that. 

Unfortunately, when you have OCD, your brain fucking hates you. It always finds a way around. And with “pure O” OCD, the compulsion often took the form of “checking in” with myself. OK, had that thought again, it’s still distressing, obviously it’s just the OCD. But what if it didn’t distress me quite as much as the last time? Does this mean that I actually do want that thing now? What if that flare of anxiety was actually excitement? Lather, rinse, repeat.

Honestly, as bad as it was being scared every night as a child for literal years that the house would burn down, it could not top the scrupulosity for suffering, because now not only were the thought spirals ruining my own life, I worried that I could end up causing other people/animals harm as well. (A particularly stupid/hilarious-in-retrospect example was the period of several months when I was like ten that I became scared that I could have AIDS -- spoiler, there was no way I could have had AIDS -- and if I forgot to wash my hands I might give my family AIDS as well, but I also couldn’t tell them because it was too embarrassing.)

I mean, maybe that particular OCD spiral did speak badly of the morality of 10-year-old me -- my family’s lives vs. my own embarrassment! And maybe later on, the “willingness to entertain” bad thoughts in the interest of getting past them also speaks poorly of my own morality, but you know what? I no longer care enough not to employ those tactics, because at that point it was literally a matter of survival. If I kept on that way, I was going to be miserable 24/7 at best and dead of suicide at worst. If that sounds dramatic, oh well.

Aaaaaaand I am spiralling hard now in a way that I haven’t in over a decade, so I am going to have to tap out for at least the rest of the evening, sorry.

I think "soy" vs "estoy" might very well be part of the issue here. I'm pretty sure "there are no bad thoughts" is shorthand for "I'm not morally responsible for my awful intrusive thoughts." They are "bad" in that they are causing distress, but they are not "bad" in the sense of reflecting the morals and values of the person thinking them.

Yeah, I think that's it. To me, "there are no bad thoughts" means "it's okay to entertain any idea."

And that... to me there's a lot that depends on. I'd say more here, and actually typed out something very long and specific, but I'm pretty sure Tumblr's reading comprehension would surely take it to mean I endorse certain ideas I absolutely do not, so... paragraph deleted.

So like... the wizard game. People seem very alarmed that people would think "I want to play the wizard game."

In a way they wouldn't be if they really believed "wanting to play is having a thought. Having a thought is neutral in every case, no matter the content thereof. Want all you want, just don't play."

Hence to me it makes a little more sense to say "yeah, I can't actually assert there's no thought it's ever bad to have. I'm pretty sure everyone thinks some thoughts are bad, when pressed about something that upsets them intensely enough. Nobody's actually neutral on everything.

"BUT the mere fact that one has thoughts doesn't have a clear, much less a specific and obvious meaning. It's possible for them to be random, and it's also possible for them to not be random and to reveal something about a person, but not what one might think.

"Like maybe I'm, idk, wondering how pedophiles feel because they scare me, not because I am one. That's a reason to think about them that has nothing to do with approval or endorsement."

[toshikosatos]

where I’ve been

trigger warnings for mention of suicidal ideation, and very nonspecific mention of sexual intrusive thoughts. brief mention of fear of starting a fire and contamination fears. (there is also a link to an article which I provide warnings for later, but here’s an advance warning that the article at that link mentions pedophilia.)

alternative title: “OCD: It’s More Than Just Hand Washing! (And Yet I Am Also Singlehandedly Keeping the Body Shop in Business with My Frequent Purchases of Hand Cream in a Desperate Attempt to Undo that Self-Inflicted Damage, As Well.)”

2016 was when it really started to get bad.

there was no real, or at least good, reason for this. my friend had just flown across the Atlantic and moved in with me and my parents, and it was so nice living with a friend and having that constant companionship. I had just finished my first year back in school after deciding to go back and finish my degree following a four year gap, in which I’d bounced between part-time service industry jobs, unemployment, and periods of severe mental illness. it was hard, but I got through that first year. I was 25.

things that sucked, though: season 5 of Person of Interest was happening, and after a year of anticipation, I wound up really disappointed by it. I have a tendency to fixate really unhealthily on my current favourite media, pretty much invest my entire emotional wellbeing in it, and then get totally crushed when it winds up disappointing me in some way. I still feel this cycle happening and don’t quite know how to break out of it, but it was worse back then. and the fandom was also full of REALLY toxic drama at the time that I couldn’t see clearly enough to disengage myself from (although it did ultimately lead to me quitting Tumblr). it wound up really triggering what I now understand to be my OCD, but I didn’t get that back then.

but maybe I should have seen it. I remember weird little things that popped up when I was younger. I went through a time for a few days as a tween when I couldn’t stop flaring my nostrils, or focusing on my blinking, and getting increasingly stressed out by it. later in my teens, I got more anxious about checking all the lights in my house to make sure none of them were about to burst into flames before I went to bed. I also had a bedtime ritual where I’d look at the moon and wish for my loved ones’ wellbeing, and it got more and more ritualized, in this way where I couldn’t step away and go to bed until I felt I’d looked at the moon just Enough, or done certain physical gestures by the window enough times. then I did a school project on OCD at 17 and thought, oh, hey, a lot of this sounds familiar! it made me so aware of my compulsions, but I also started doing them more and getting more stressed out by them as a result, somehow. but a little while after finishing the project, things calmed down again.

these were the things I understood to be related to OCD. I didn’t know WHAT was happening to me when I couldn’t pull myself away from Twitter arguments at 25, couldn’t stop going over the same topics with friends and explaining how I felt and getting reassurance that my friends didn’t judge my opinions, or didn’t judge me for having had a different opinion in the past. I didn’t know why I was losing hours of my life to stress over The Discourse going on on my Twitter feed. I just thought, geez, my anxiety is a mess.

then I went back to school in the fall, and it got worse. one day I remembered something offensive I’d said to be ~edgy when I was 14. read: 11 years prior. I became overcome with anxiety for the next few days, convinced that if I ever told a friend about this, they’d disown me for being an awful person. finally, I told them, and they did not care one bit. they just started listing other 14 year olds they’d known who’d done the same kind of shit. I breathed a sigh of relief. for the time being.

then I wrote an essay that led me down a questionable Youtube rabbit hole. I wound up getting very triggered by a video I saw of something that probably should have been removed from Youtube, but I also convinced myself that I was a horrible person for having looked at it and not immediately looked away. I worried about this for about a month.

then in December 2016, it got much worse. I remembered something similarly inappropriate that I’d seen online when I was 15. again: 10 years earlier. I had looked the thing up out of morbid curiosity, thought it was inappropriate, and never looked at it again. now, 10 years later, I was suddenly overwhelmingly convinced that I was a HORRIBLE person for having looked at this, and that any of my friends would agree and would leave me forever if they knew. within a few days, it became so overwhelming I told a friend, and she did not care. I felt better, for a moment. but it came back. the fear always came back. reassurance from any one person was never enough. I always knew that some remaining friend WOULD hate me for one thing or another I’d done, and it WOULD be proof that I was a terrible person.

I didn’t see how it could get any worse until January 2017. somehow, it did. my thoughts were out of control. I triggered myself eight ways till Sunday, and that January and February was one of the hardest times of my entire life. I was never suicidal - I always knew I would never actually kill myself - but I imagined myself dead every single day, and thought about how much better off we’d all be if I’d never been born. (I remember feeling this way when I took the picture I included at the top of this post.) I felt like there was no point in me living anymore because I was such a horrible person, but that I HAD to keep living, so I was just stuck in a pointless existence, not allowed to feel fulfilled anymore. it was probably the lowest I’ve ever felt. it was the worst feeling. I was anxious and afraid, but that isolating fear made me deeply depressed, too.

but it was pretty early on in all this that I tried to google what I was feeling, and was led to this famous article by Rose Cartwright about pure O OCD. (MAJOR trigger warnings on that article: she talks in detail about sexual intrusive thoughts about pedophilia as well as sexual orientation). honestly, having a name for what I was going through didn’t make me feel much better, but at least I had some idea what was happening to me, now. and it was that knowledge that EVENTUALLY helped me to help myself. it gave me the language to use with the doctors I met, an understanding of how to explain what I was going through, which eventually helped me through evaluations and got me into an OCD treatment program in the fall of 2018. and it did show me that I wasn’t alone.

but there was a sense of, “how did I never realize what this was until now?” I’d referred to myself as having OCD tendencies for a long time. “OCD habits.” I didn’t think any of it was severe enough to actually call OCD. then I found out all the different ways OCD can manifest: intrusive thoughts about sexual topics, violence, morality. I’d had them all. even back in 2013, when I first started seeing a psychotherapist, I went through a phase where I couldn’t stop having a particular intrusive sexual thought that made me feel like a monster. I told my therapist about it, desperate. she reassured me that I wasn’t a freak, and I felt a whole lot better. but she never even used the term OCD. she just said it was strange that I was having these thoughts when I didn’t have a history of abuse. but that’s not strange: it’s just how OCD works sometimes. she didn’t Get It. (I have read that psychotherapists often don’t get it, because they’re quite focused on analyzing the reasons why you feel a certain way, and OCD sufferers already do that too much. we don’t need to analyze: we need to learn to live with our bad thoughts, and not act out compulsions in response to them.) so I went on not knowing until it got much, much worse. and that is why people really need to start building a better understanding of all the different things that OCD entails.

I have intrusive sexual thoughts. I worry CONSTANTLY about everything I’ve ever done wrong and that I’m a bad person, and every single day I fight the urge to seek reassurance from my friends that every single one of those things isn’t It, the thing that will finally make them realize that I’m a horrible person and leave me forever. I second guess every decision I make to the point that I wind up frozen by my own anxiety. I obsess over contamination and harm, too. I wash my hands too much because I’m afraid if I don’t, and then I touch something someone else will touch, I might contaminate them in some way, and that would make me a horrible person. it all comes down to “this will make me a horrible person.” all my other obsessions come back to morality, in the end. I had one doctor who evaluated me tell me I was wrong to connect my sexuality obsessions to my morality obsessions, but I think she was wrong. they are absolutely connected. it is ALL about this for me, in the end.

when I was cleaning my room last year, during my treatment, I got distracted by a notebook I wrote in when I was 12, and I found a page where I wrote, in 2003, “My obsessive compulsive habits are getting out of hand.” I didn’t even remember knowing the term when I was 12. I saw it that long ago, but it took me until I was 27 to get treated for it. there’s no such thing as too late, but when I read that, I wished I could have told my younger self to get help and why. I wished I could show my 17 year old self, or my 21 year old self, or my 25 year old self that page, and let her know, “this is what’s going on. this is what you need to tell a doctor you’re dealing with.” but maybe now I can help someone else figure that out, like Rose Cartwright has helped me with her OCD activism and writing.

my treatment ended a year ago, and I haven’t been using the tools they gave me very diligently since. I’ve been really struggling as a result, but executive dysfunction is a bitch. I hope I can start working on it again soon, because I already know what I need to do to feel better.

a book we used in therapy that I found incredibly helpful: https://www.amazon.com/Getting-Over-OCD-Second-Self-Help/dp/1462529704

Rose’s book: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0118ITJUY/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1

[mandeebobandee]

I said I’d write a post with my experience with mental illness and here it is. I put it off for a while because I wasn’t sure how personal I wanted to get, or if anyone would be interested, but hey. It’s been bouncing around in my head for a long time, and if this helps me or anyone who might come across it, I suppose it’s worth it. I’m going to put a read more here so that this doesn’t kill people’s dashes, since I have a feeling this is going to end up being long and rambly, but...here we go.

I’m not actually sure when my first symptoms showed up. It’s possible that I had some form of mental illness almost as far back as I can remember? I remember being in preschool and having a fear of wetting my pants for an entire day, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to get the thought out of my mind. In first grade, I remember being seized by a fear that I would start swearing at the top of my lungs in the middle of class. I didn’t, but it popped into my head, and that felt bad enough. A couple of times in 2nd/3rd grade, I had difficulty falling asleep because I couldn’t stop worrying about trying to get to sleep, and I would keep repeatedly counting out how many hours of sleep I would get if I fell asleep right then, and if it would be ‘enough sleep’.

So yeah. I always was a worrywart, it seems like.

I feel like I should note that I went to Catholic school from kindergarten through 2nd grade. I should also note that I’m fairly certain my experiences with religion shaped some of my first experiences with mental illness. This is not to say anything against anyone who is religious - I respect you and your faith. However, certain things I learned through religion...didn’t exactly help me, with how my mind worked.

In Catholic school, confession is a thing. You go in front of a priest and tell him your sins, and he gives you a way to seek penance for it. Usually repeating a certain prayer a certain number of times, or something along those lines. I dunno, it’s been a LONG time since I’ve actually done it. I’m agnostic now, so I don’t exactly go to church.

The reason I bring this up? 

My experiences when I was younger MAY have qualified as mental illness. I’m not 100% certain. What began near the end of 3rd grade? There is NO doubt about that.

It was Good Friday 1998. I was 8, soon to be 9. The reason I brought up my religious background is this - a religion related discussion precipitated my heardfirst dive into obsessive-compulsive disorder.

I’m pretty sure the comment was relatively harmless in hindsight, my mom making a comment about how Jesus died for our sins or something like that. All I know is that I suddenly found myself besieged by an overwhelming guilt as I thought about everything ‘bad’ I’d done in my life. Saying bad words, sneaking candy when I was 4 years old, all of it kept jumping to the forefront of my mind, and I felt like I had to confess it all to my parents as it came to my mind. I’m not sure how long this lasted...probably only a couple of weeks, honestly, but it wasn’t fun.

Also, the weirdest things became concerns of mine at that point. I had to make certain not to stick my middle finger out too far, or else I was afraid that I’d accidentally flip someone off, which I knew was bad. I didn’t want to say words like ‘wash it’ because...well, the end of the word wash combined with the word it sounded like ‘shit’ and ‘oh no bad word!’.

...I hate to say it, but this was only the beginning.

My mom and I were praying at one point at night when a really bad thought popped into my head. I was terrified, because what if it came true because I thought it while I was praying? And I didn’t really want to talk about it with anyone, because it was so horrible that I didn’t want anyone to know about it.

This continued for much of fourth grade. I was afraid I would hurt my mother. I didn’t actually want to, of course - I recognize now that these were what are known as intrusive thoughts, but there aren’t many nine year olds who know that now, let alone in the late 90s when I was experiencing all of this.

I recall being afraid to even touch knives, if that tells you anything.

I would also pray. By this point I recognized that what I was doing was ‘weird’, so I found ways to hide what I was doing. I would go into a room by myself and go through my routine, or I would do my daily ‘prayer’ in the shower.

...here’s why this was an issue.

I wasn’t just saying a quick prayer. I had an entire script memorized, that had to be said exactly the right way or I’d have to repeat it all over again. And it wasn’t a quick script either. And I often WOULD have to repeat it all over again. I recall at least one point where my parents actually made a comment about how long I spent in the shower, and the water grew cold with how long I spent in there. I didn’t tell them why, because I knew it was weird

That particular phase reached a boiling point one night when I was watching The Lion King. Here, I feel I should note that The Lion King was my favorite movie when I was younger. It came out when I was 5 years old, and I was Simba for Halloween in kindergarten. I had Simba and Nala stuffed animals, a Simba windbreaker with matching pants (yes, windbreaker..it was the 90s, okay?) that I took my school picture in, a Lion King casette tape, Lion King sheets on my bed...

You get the picture.

I bawled my eyes out during that movie, and while yes, I did often cry at certain scenes in that movie, for obvious reasons...this was different. This was almost hysterical crying, and my parents knew there was something wrong. They managed to finally coax me to admit my fears, and that seeing Simba accused of what happened to Mufasa in that movie was...well, it was a little too close for comfort.

Talking to my parents helped. I still had worries, of course, but my next big flare up didn’t happen until 5th grade.

Once again, the thing that set it off should have been something that didn’t affect me. It wouldn’t affect most people. 

A girl in my gym class cut her knee on one of those rolly scooters that you’d sit on and roll around on in gym class. Obviously not the greatest thing, but you wouldn’t think it would be something that would set someone off...would you?

Ahahaha. Yeaaaaaaaaah right.

To preface, some of this was due to ignorance on my part. I was 10, I didn’t know the details as to how the disease I was so afraid of was transmitted. I only knew that you could get it from blood, and there was blood on the floor in gym class. So then I started worrying that I might have gotten it on my shoes. Then, that anything my shoes touched could have gotten something on them. Then my clothes. Then...

You, uh, get the picture.

I was afraid that anything I touched would give me AIDS. X_X Again, I KNOW now that it doesn’t work that way. I also know that even with other diseases, those pathogens eventually DIE outside of the body, so you don’t have to worry about your shoes being contaminated with the same virus two weeks later. But, again, I was 10. I actually learned shortly after this the truth of how AIDS is spread.

Anyway, this was one of the points where my OCD was most stereotypical. I washed my hands constantly. Obviously my parents noticed, and they tried to poke and prod into WHY I was doing this. Once again, my shame and fear and recognizing that what I was doing was ‘weird’ led me to hide the truth to some extent. We’d watched Johnny Tremaine in class and my dad mentioned that after he watched that movie he’d been afraid that his hand would get disfigured like one of the characters’ in the movie’s hands did. So I claimed that I feared something similar, and that was why I was washing my hands.

I’m pretty sure, looking back, that he probably didn’t buy that.

6th grade came. My mom had surgery. My best friend had diabetes. Neither of these were their fault, of course, but both I’m fairly certain had an impact on my already anxious mind. I started worrying that I would develop diabetes like my friend had. Now, I was old enough at this point to understand that diabetes wasn’t contagious, so at least I wasn’t worried about contracting it from my friend. I was, however, afraid of contracting other diseases, so...yep, the hand washing continued. We also happened to have this lovely book of illnesses from the 80s that my parents bought with an encyclopedia set way back that I spent way too much time reading. Actually, reading that became one of my compulsions. There was an entry that I would read through every night before I went to bed. The same entry.

My mom wound up in the hospital with chest pains a couple of weeks after surgery. They sent her home with a diagnosis of acid reflux. It was 2 in the morning and they took me to a side room to see if I could get some sleep. I couldn’t. We were learning about the plague of all things and I couldn’t get the idea that plague bacteria could be lurking anywhere in that room out of my head, so...yep. Didn’t get to sleep until they released my mom out of the ER at 6 or 7 in the morning.

I started fearing heart attacks around this point. I would literally feel for my heartbeat several times a day, just to make sure my heart was still beating. 

Christmas that year was...stressful. My mom was still recovering from her surgery, there was family drama, my uncle’s girlfriend had a possible diagnosis of TB so everyone was paranoid of being around him because of THAT, my dad’s side of the family insisted on smoking despite the fact that being around smoke made me feel blah...

Still, that was a walk in the park compared to New Years.

We were invited to a neighbor’s New Years Eve party. Everything was fine until I walked in the door.

I still don’t entirely know how to describe the feeling that came over me. 11-year-old me summed it up as ‘I feel like I’m going to pass out’. I tried to continue as if everything was normal. I didn’t want to disrupt the party. The neighbor’s toddler daughter, who liked showing off for the ‘big kid’, wanted to show me a dance or something that she’d learned.

The feeling didn’t go away. I told my mom I wanted to go home, that I still felt like I was going to pass out.

We made it back home. I remember pleading with my mom to take me to the doctor, because I was honestly afraid there was something seriously wrong with me. The feeling eventually abated, but not without my discovering something quite interesting.

Remember that childhood illnesses book? When I read it, I usually stuck to certain communicable diseases that I was concerned about, or things like the diabetes that my best friend struggled with. My mom was looking through the book trying to figure out what was wrong with me, and started reading a definition that stood out to me. I don’t recall what all it said, and we no longer have that book (as it would be over 30 years old at this point). One thing I do recall was that she read something along the lines of ‘feeling like you’re going crazy or dying’.

It was under the heading of ‘panic attack’.

That New Years was the only New Years I can ever recall NOT staying up until or past midnight.

I ended up getting a fever a few days later, and in the midst of my fever, my delirious mind pounced on my fears and kept asking me ‘what if you really do want to hurt somebody?’ I was shaking uncontrollably, not realizing that I had chills and a fever, and ran into my mom’s room sobbing and telling her I thought I was going crazy. She felt my forehead and told me I was burning up.

You can understand why, when it was time to return back to school after Christmas break, I was uneasy as my mom pulled up to the curb to drop me off. I was afraid that I’d get a headache, or that I’d feel like I was going to pass out again, or any of the multiple things that seemed to be wrong with me recently. Of course, I had to pull up my big girl panties and still go to school, but...I started to become afraid to do things, out of fear that they would ‘set me off’, that something like what happened at that New Years Eve party would happen again.

And it did.

Not right away, of course. I didn’t walk into school and have it happen right away. It happened once in gym class. It happened at a school party. It happened when my parents were driving.

It happened twice in one day, at the beginning of 7th grade. To be fair, though, there were special circumstances that day. One instance was precipitated by a mental picture in my head of a plane crashing into our school, if that gives you some idea. Needless to say, even the adults seemed confused and panicky that day, and given how I was already..yeah, it wasn’t any surprise that 9/11 left me particularly frazzled. 

The summer between 9th grade and 10th grade was quite possibly the worst. I spent hours doing my various ‘rituals’ that I had to do each day. By this time, I was already getting involved with online fandoms, and every day before I could actually posted what I wanted to on the Harry Potter forum I was on, I had to post certain posts over and over again. By this point, I more than suspected I had OCD.

I actually mentioned it to someone on the board, who pretty much laughed and said. ‘You don’t have it. If you had it, it would be noticeable’.

...like it wasn’t? Did they think I was posting the same thing over and over again for fun? I was doing rituals until 1 and 2 in the morning for pete’s sake.

This was honestly the pattern off and on through high school. 11th grade was particularly awkward, as it began to affect my grades. Certain readings in American Lit would give me ‘weird feelings’, and I couldn’t bring myself to finish the assignments for them for that reason. 

The summer between 11th and 12th grade was when things hit a head. I developed a thing for straightening shelves in stores, and my dad was poking fun at me doing it at one point. I love my dad, but he can be particularly harsh when he teases, and by that point I was already in a bad position.

I burst into tears in the middle of Walmart. Not one of my proudest moments.

That said...it gave me the impetus to finally go to my parents about what was wrong. I knew I’d needed therapy for a few years prior to this point, I’d just never worked up the courage to talk to them about it.

The first part of the conversation actually went how I feared. My parents thought it was like the diseases I looked up as a child and would come into their room telling them I feared I’d get it (...ironically, I did that BECAUSE of this disorder, but moving on). 

I left the room crying and began to write out my experience year after year, much as I did here (though probably not quite as eloquently...I was 17 at the time, after all). Once my parents read THAT, they finally realized how much this was impacting my life, and agreed to take me to the doctor.

Not only that, but they confessed that they did similar things. Now both of them admit to having OCD to some extent, and it’s pretty darn obvious that much of my family struggles with anxiety and/or OCD...on both sides.

Sad thing is? It took until the millennials (me and my cousin on my dad’s side) and Gen Z (a cousin on my mom’s side) before anyone actually sought help for any of this. X_X 

I’m not going to pretend that I went to therapy and things magically got better. Therapy did help. I stopped therapy when I was 19, because my therapist was about to have a baby. I never went back to see her after that, figuring I was doing better at that point.

Of course, the ensuing decade after that was full of ups and downs.

2016 is probably when things began to get extra difficult again. I began to experience tremors. I would get dizzy/have palpitations. My doctor sent me to see a cardiologist and a neurologist.

They ran their tests, determined there was nothing physically wrong with me. The tremors, dizziness, and palpitations were new manifestations of my anxiety. At some point (not 100% sure when), I also gained a diagnosis of GAD.

Last year, I finally began to see a therapist yet again (the 2017-2018 flu season scared me particularly badly, and I still have a paranoia because of it), and started a new medication. Has everything gotten completely better?

No, but it has improved some from where it was prior to that point. I’m still working on it, and I’ll probably be working on it in some way, shape, or form for my entire life.

But hey, at least I can be more open about it now. And I know that I’m not alone, and that makes a huge difference as well <3

[sofiahahaaa]

Demigod Delinquents | Pt. 10 | Hijacking a Safe

| MASTERLIST |

Summary: There’s a very big prison, and inside of that prison there’s a room, and inside of that room there’s a safe, and inside of that safe is the secrets tO tHe UniVERsE!! (not really though, just some files.)

Rating: ? nothing

A/N: This part is going to be a little long but you guys are going to have to bear with me. That is all, please continue

~~~

Jason’s POV ~

I sat cross-legged on the carpet of our cell while Percy blabbered on and on about this guppy he had once. Leo was snoring on the floor next to me, while Keaton fiddled with his newest plaything– something like a watch. Ari was touching up with Leo’s glamify-mirror, giggling at the bronzed reflection.

“Do you guys… want to do something else?” Mera asked, slumped in her bean bag chair.

“Yeah,” I responded hastily. “Anything but this.” Percy looked at me funny.

“I was in the middle of telling you about the time I let him in the tub!” He protested, pouting. Mera pat his shoulder gingerly.

“Later, Percy.”

“Hmph.” Percy crossed his arms and looked into his lap.

“What was that thing we were going to do again?” I asked them. They hadn’t told me yet.

“Maybe… sleep?” Ari said hopefully. Keaton grunted.

“I get 0 to none these days. I’m surprised your friend over there can sleep at all.” Keaton huffed on the spinning pen gadget, a shrill whistle ringing. I shook my head.

“Sometimes I’m impressed by it, too. But that’s not what I meant. I meant the… potentially illegal thing.” 

“Oh, we’re safecracking, baby.” Leo rose from his uncomfortable-looking sleeping position and winked at me.

“I got that.” I blinked. “Yeah, no– that was pretty obvious.”

“Well, if you insist– we’re performing a highly planned surgery on the bowels of–”

Mera took over from there. “We’re going to bust into his 10-digit daisy chain safe. It has all the files of anyone who has ever set foot in this place. We’ll have everything we need.”

“For what?” Percy asked, now over the fact that we had vetoed his guppy storytime. Mera looked at him, then put a hand to her cheek.

“Sometimes I forget that you are naturally clueless. What do you think? We are finding Mr. Richardson’s file! I thought I made that clear.” Mera explained carefully, like she was lecturing a small child. In a way, she was. Leo huffed.

“Well, that was one way to say it.”

“So… are we going to do that?” I asked them, hoping they would catch on. Mera checked her watch.

“15 more minutes, but yeah. Of course, we are!” Leo stroked his machine lovingly before opening the hatch and inspecting the wires.

“We’re all set.” Keaton nodded. I noticed his eyes kept flickering in between Percy and Mera, like he was trying to grasp where they were at. Why would he do that if–? Oh, right. He doesn’t know about Annabeth. I bet Mera does.

I looked towards them. It would be totally weird if she didn’t. I coughed into my fist, and they all turned to me. “Let’s get going, guys.” Ari shrugged. They seemed to shrink into the shadows uncomfortably when I spoke.

Man, Aphrodite’s children were always so different. Ari was nothing like Pipes. Not even a little– besides one small detail.

There was certain insecurity I was sure every child of Aphrodite shared. Their obsessive or confident attitudes just painted over the insecurity– every single one had an obvious fear of being ‘not good enough’. Ari seemed to stick to the back, now. I watched as thy placed a strand of hair behind their ear placatingly. 

I felt, somehow, that Piper had gotten over her own insecurities long ago, but I still wondered. It was interesting how much she differed from her siblings. 

Ari sure was interesting... I noticed how they barely moved when others spoke to them sometimes, but could easily create conversation when ready. They just needed to come out of their shell.

I unlocked the padlock and pushed open the cell door.

We pushed through into the open atrium and snuck out towards the catwalks. I could hear our small footsteps thudding against the metal grid beneath us. Clunk. Clunk. 

I tried to loosen up and found myself looking at Percy ahead of me. Did he miss Annabeth as much as I missed Piper?

I placed another foot in front of the other, careful to keep a steady rhythm.

Percy continued in the front of our pack, his eyes searching the area ahead. His eyes seemed to churn, splashing with vibrance, like waves in the sea. His fingers hovered comfortably near the pocket that held Riptide.

I took a deep breath. I had a simple dagger tucked in my uniform, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to defend myself with just that. I huffed as the cold hilt of the dagger contacted my skin, sending shivers up my spine. It would have to do.

We arrived at the hallway that branched off into the Head’s office. Percy looked to Mera, who smiled and gladly took the advance. Keaton and Percy stood positioned behind her, and Ari, Leo, and I stayed further back.

I noticed that Mera’s fingers also grasped at the air near her thigh. It was a similar flinch people trained in combat had– especially when their instincts told them they were in danger.

Keaton touched his crossbow lovingly, and looked away to retrieve the safecracker from Leo. “Yeah, nice and steady. Don’t drop it.” Leo murmured under his breath as he handed it to Keaton. We started inching closer to the door. 

The hallway was clear, but a light shone under the door of the Janitor’s Closet. “Always the janitor.” Ari mumbled, already moving towards the door. I backed them up, ready to knock him unconscious. 

Ari fumbled with the door handle, wrenching the creaking door open quickly. The noise made me flinched. I looked over my shoulder to see the rest cringing, but they had reached the door and no sound had come in the upset.

The janitor whistled a tune, and I felt bad for having to punch him. His gravelly voice belched a song I didn’t know. “Oh, happy day… to see the hills, to see the sun… oh joyful day… to be carefree and lovable, oh, son… ha–” He looked up, pausing for a moment, then glared at Ari. “Have I seen you before?”

“Me? No.” Ari ran a hand through his hair and straightened his posture. “We’re just passing through. You don’t remember us doing it at all. We’ll–” I nailed the janitor in the face and he crumpled at Ari’s feet, eyeballs rolling back until we could only see the whites.

“Ew,” I pressed my lips together and poked the body with my foot. “Uh, guys. What were you doing?” I reminded them, putting my hand to my chin. I turned around. “Guys!” Mera shook her head vigorously, and her eyes unclouded. Keaton handled the Safecracker.

“First lock. Easy-peasy. 4-digit code, standard padlock.” Leo told him. Keaton inhaled and set the Safecracker. He clipped it onto the lock, and in a hundredth of a second, the lock clicked open. Keaton detached the mechanism.

“Whoa. That works like– really, really well.”

‘Duh! We made it.” Leo grinned and pushed forward. The dean was not at her desk. I knocked over her pencils and smiled to myself. “What was that, Jason? A little bit of… a rebellious streak?” My nostrils flared.

“I got myself landed here with you. I don’t need rebellious streaks anymore, Leo. I have earned the title of a rebel!” I insisted, trying to remind him that we were keeping a cover for Ari and Keaton. Leo looked at me again, then turned to the next lock on the Head’s door. As soon as we stepped in that room, I’d felt a horrible, sinking feeling. The pudgy man was so familiar to me.

The weird, putrid smell that emanated from his body. The concerning shape of his middle. Even his skin tone. It all took me back to one monster I dreaded.

The Earthborn.

I shivered as I saw him, slipping away into the memory of Enceladus and the forms with six arms. They rose from the ground, loincloths the only clothing they wore. Their eyes were hungry and dark, with almost no white.

I snapped back to attention, my eyes drifting from his picture hanging above the desk.

Leo tapped his forehead, looking over Keaton’s shoulder. “I think this is… 10 digit. Electronic. That’s my best guess.” I wouldn't know. The lock looked like an extra wad of metal glued onto the door handle. Keaton tapped at the settings and clicked the lock in. 

It whirred for two seconds, then died down. It beeped angrily. “No. It has to be something else.” Keaton’s face fell. Then, all of a sudden, Leo’s face lit up.

“This is a genius contraption! It is both traditional and digital. The traditional code is– ah, one sec,” He made a strained face, like he was constipated, then turned his chin upwards. “8 digits. Numbers and letters. Plus, the electronic code changes every month. Now that’s smart.” Leo moved Keaton’s hand aside and flipped through the options on the Safecracker.

Mera pursed her lips. “I thought you knew about the ‘changing every month’ part. I made sure to say ‘daisy-chain’, after all.”

“Do you have a program for this, or is it a bust?” Keaton asked, standing to the side. Leo lifted a finger.

“Not yet. Patience, young padawan.” Keaton huffed but looked anyway. “I don’t have a program.” Groan. “Hold up, guys!” Leo grinned crookedly. “Lucky for you, I’m smart, and I just created a new program!”

“In the ten seconds we’ve been standing here?” Ari asked incredulously.

“Yes!” Leo said, oblivious to the challenging tone. “Now try it, K.” Keaton tilted his head, shrugging as if to say: ‘What’s the harm in trying?’

“Okay. Here it goes.” Keaton’s finger hovered over the button.

“Let’s hope this works, or we’ll set off a crazy blaring alarm,” Leo added enthusiastically. Keaton turned to him, sighing.

“Yeah, let’s hope.” He pressed the button, and the whirring started again. We waited exactly one second before the lock popped open without a struggle.

“Yes!” Leo pumped his fists, and rushed us into the office.

It was a mess: papers thrown everywhere, crumbs strewn across the ground. Mera gulped. I could almost see her OCD going wild, her anxiety attack about to hit. She started inhaling sharper, and her eyes rattled from one messy corner to the next. “Oh. My. Lord.” I cracked my neck.

“So, where’s the safe?”

Leo’s POV ~

I dragged a finger along the safe. “It’s a beauty…” Keaton nodded along as I crouched down to admire every inch of the cold metal. I concentrated for a moment, and I could hear the gears working at the very moment. I touched my forehead to the lock. “This baby is going to take a lot of effort– wow! Dios, titanium steel– double forged!” I squealed, busting everyone else’s eardrums along with mine. “I– ¡hijo! This stuff is so rare. How does the government even get ahold of it?!”

“Leo– will you stop admiring the safe we have to crack and get back here?” I jerked my head back to look at her.

“Oh,” My eyes flickered to Mera nervously, but I handled the safecracker and clicked it to the lock. I felt the pulsing gears turning inside of the busty doors and the steady thrum of pure weight in the 50-tooth main gear. “Okay,” I placed a hand gingerly on the area next to the lock. “Keaton, there is a total of 28 digits, alphanumeric. It’s digital. It will change in about a minute, so that’s the time we have to work with.” I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. “Ready?”

Keaton fiddled with the small dials on the exterior of the safecracker. “Yeah. Do I…”

“Go ahead.” Keaton pressed the ‘activate’ button, his hand shaking the entire time, and clasped his hands together.

“I hope this works.” Ari murmured from the back.

“Of course you do! If it doesn’t… we’ll probably die.” Ari sighed.

“Great! I love me some death!”

“Shh! It’s working!” Mera gulped, eyes fixated on the screen and the string of code running down the lines.

“Does that make any sense to you?” I asked her in bewilderment.

“Yeah, some of it…” Her mouth hung open as the machine groaned on. “You don’t?” She turned to me. “You made it.”

“No way, man. I– I just deal with hardware and stuff. This is gibberish. And yeah, I made it, but Keaton was the one who wrote the codes.”

She nodded. “Huh.” The machine stopped whirring and made a pathetic sigh. I flipped to see it.

“What happened?” I asked Keaton.

“I have no idea. It just shut off.” Keaton shook his head in disappointment.

“Well…” I was cut short by the lights, which flickered off. 

“Oh, great. A power shortage.” Percy muttered annoyedly. I shivered, eyes traveling across the room.

“I don’t think that was a power outage, man. That was too… perfect.” Jason coughed. I could feel the tension in the room. The door crashed inwards, and we were met by…

“Mr. Richardson? Wha–” Keaton turned so his back shielded the safecracker from view. I shifted my gaze to Mera. She was breathing heavily, the orange folds of fabric hiding her dagger. I stepped forward without a thought.

“Hi there. Sorry, we… aren’t here at a great time. We couldn’t find you earlier.” Ari cleared their throat, looking me in the eye.

“Yeah!” They pitched in. “Just stopping by.” 

Just stopping by… I thought.

I shook my head. It’s Ari. Charmspeak. Mr. Richardson’s mouth was open, but he was silent. “Hmm.” Keaton moved, trying to remove the device from the safe. It stuck, and he revealed too much. 

Before I could prevent it from happening– Mr. Richardson saw the safecracker. “Ha! I knew it! You were up to something!” He shook his head, a red blush already appearing on his face. “We already talked earlier today! I thought you said you would be good inmates!”

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Chronic Illness (3) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: May 23rd, 2022

part one, part two

Any Change In Time (ao3) - kitchen_sinks

Summary: Dan just wanted a tattoo, but somehow he ended up with a boyfriend.

Brittle - phandabbydosey

Summary: Told from the perspective of a doctor observing Dan’s strangely frequent trips to A&E, always for broken bones. His relationship with Phil seems perfect, but could there be a more sinister cause underlying Dan’s injuries? Or is it something else entirely?

flares (ao3) - huphilpuffs

Summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy.

He Had to Go - philsdrill

Summary: Dan has a bladder condition and it takes an intervention from Phil to get him to the toilet in time. An unexpected boner leads to some… watersports.

I’m Not Going Back - awesomesockes

Summary: Dan’s light bladder problem, where it’s Dan and Phil’s first time at Playlist and Dan is worried about needing the bathroom during their meet and greet, Phil comes up with a signal that Dan can use to let Phil know he needs the bathroom so they can go take a break, during the meet up Phil doesn’t notice the signal until Dan runs out to the bathroom, he only makes as far as the bathroom and Phil who has run after him comforts him.

I’ve Had Enough - awesomesockes

Summary: Dan suffers from LBS (Light bladder syndrome) and gets into a fight with Phil.

Late Night Baths - sodalester

Summary: Phil knows Dan loves him when he sacrifices his sleep time and time again to help with Phil’s pain.

The Fault in Our Phan - dr-horribles-cry-along-blog

Summary: When I was seventeen my mother decided that I was depressed, probably because I spend most of my time in bed, and I rarely left the house. I also read the same book series over and over again, and I devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death.

The Torture of OCD - wishicouldunreadthat

Summary: “We’ve just completed the full assessment of Dan’s behaviour and regret to inform you…” The doctor leaned forward in his chair and watched Phil, eyes full of heavy sympathy. “We believe Dan is suffering with OCD.”

weak knees, stubborn heart (ao3) - t_hens

Summary: when Phil wakes up in the midst of a flare up, his joints tight, swollen and blindingly painful, he knows it's going to be a bad day. he refuses to take the day off like Dan suggests though, knowing there are videos to film and meetings to attend.

when a mishap happens at work and Phil gets hurt, he is forced to face the fact that maybe it's time to admit that he can't do everything on his own.

sometimes he needs a shoulder to lean against now that he's sick, but so long as that shoulder is attached to Dan, maybe he can make an exception.

What We Both Need - huphilpuffs

Summary: Dan’s too sick to go to pride.