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animeyanderelover · 8 months ago

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Prompt 153 "Tell me how much you love me whilst I fuck you into the mattress.” For Muzan?

I’m so excited for the new season to come out. By the way, I'm not sure who exactly his real parents were back in the Heian era so this is conjured up by my own imagination. This is one of the darker pieces that I have written so be aware of that.

@leveyani @kanaosprotector

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, violence, death, afab s/o, Nsfw, blood kink, dacryphilia, degradation, non-con, s/o starts bleeding during sex

Words: 5.9k

Prompt 153

“Muzan?”

You called out hesitantly as you stepped onto the property of his family's residency. It was already night, a chilly breeze blowing through the district that made you shudder in the yukata that you had hastily put on when you had been notified by one of his other servants that the young lord had wished for your presence. Had something happened? Had his health further deteriorated? The servant hadn't answered you any of those questions as they had quickly left you as soon as they had delivered the message. But they had looked terrified for whatever reason.

Obviously you were worried about Muzan as you had been his personal maid for years now and had stayed with him despite his fragile condition. You had stayed up many nights whenever he had been bedridden and had always accompanied him whenever his health had been slightly better and he had wished to go outside. You had even been there when a doctor had diagnosed him with a terminal illness that would kill him before he could even reach the young age of 20 years.

The mortified look on Muzan's face, the angry glint in his eyes, his shaky hands as he had grabbed the doctor with the weak strength he still possessed in his sick condition as he had hissed at the doctor in sheer wrath yet also fear, had demanded from him to find a cure only for you to quickly help him to lay down again when a coughing fit had suddenly sized him.

It was a terrible memory as you had never felt as hopeless before as back then, unable to help Muzan to escape from the inevitable death that had been trying to take him from the moment he had been in his mother's womb. Even your words hadn't been able to soothe him from that moment on. In fact it had been from that moment on that he had started rejecting you completely for reasons you didn't fully understand but had accepted silently anyways. You knew that you were only a servant and hadn't been able to truly feel angry at him. Muzan was lonely and confused, scared and angry. You hadn't been able to blame him for his behavior. It had still come as a shock when you had been informed that he had told the remaining few servants in the household that he didn't wish to see you anymore yet you had swallowed your sadness and confusion and had moved on by helping your parents.

Yet here you were again. It hadn't been that long since you had been last here but for some reason it still felt strange. Precisely because you had spent so many days of your life here were you able to notice that something felt off. You couldn't detect any other sounds which was strange because normally some servants would still be awake at this time and enjoy some quiet time for themselves. You could also not see any light behind the shoji doors nor were any of the lanterns outside lit up for your arrival. The only source of light was the crescent hanging in the sky.

"Hello?" You called out again, this time in a slightly raised voice, your eyes trying to decipher anything within the compound that would indicate that someone was there. You just needed the validation that your gut feeling was lying to you by seeing a servant somewhere or just seeing anyone on here who belonged here.

You gulped comedically loud, the sound of you swallowing cutting through the thick silence that made you fidgety, your hands unable to relax as you clutched the thin material of your yukata in your sweaty palms. You didn't know what to do. No one was here to welcome you, to invite you inside and the uneasy feeling somewhere deep inside your stomach warned you that something was wrong and that you should leave. You just stood there within the residency, contemplating if you should leave and just come back tomorrow.

"(y/n)."

You nearly jumped when you heard Muzan's voice from somewhere. You looked up in surprise, eyes flying over the scenery before you spotted his silhoutte. You hadn't heard him at all and wondered when exactly he had appeared. On the other hand you could only see very little due to the darkness anyways so it was just likely that you had missed him because of the lack of lanterns being lit.

"What are you just standing there? I believe that I ordered you to return to me, didn't I?"

There it was again. The knot of anxiety somewhere in the pit of your stomach that only tightened when you heard his voice. He sounded... so cold. His voice held a strong and confident tone that you had never heard before yet there was also this underlying tone of iciness that you just hadn't expected to hear when he was talking to you.

"Forgive me, please. It's just that I saw no one awaiting my arrival so I was unsure if I could just enter without any permission." You quickly spoke when you pulled yourself out of your slightly shocked state. You bowed to express your apology before you straightened again. Your eyes tried to recognize his face yet it was hidden by the shadow of the roof as the moonlight only shone enough to help you identify the rough outline of his body and the dark robe with a pattern you couldn't discern.

He seemed to consider your reply for a while, to gauge your every reaction before you could spot him turning around.

"Don't make me wait again the next time."

Again you were caught off guard by the coldness in his voice but you did not let him wait this time as you picked up his silent command to follow him. You quickly removed your shoes before you went after him. As you had already expected from the looks outside the house, inside was no light on at all. No lanterns, no fire, no nothing. It was even darker than it was outside as the only natural light from the moon could only reach so far inside. As your sight was so greatly restricted, you found your steps being hesitant and slow as if afraid that you would stumble over something otherwise. Even now that you were inside, you could still hear nothing. It was almost as if only Muzan was in here but that wasn't possible. There were the other servants, there were his parents and also the doctor who had recently visited Muzan with the promise of finding a cure to his illness.

Were all of them asleep already?

"I thought I just told you to not make me wait. Is there a reason for you to ignore my words again?"

The clear tinge of displeasure in his voice was palpable to you as he stopped walking for a moment. Your steps came to an abrupt hold too. You were shuffling your feet nervously in an attempt to deal with the tension in the air.

“Muzan…where are the other servants?”

There was no answer. Only the thick silence that made you slowly break out in cold sweat. Had you said something wrong?

“You’re here for me. You’re my maid. What the rest of the servants are up to should be none of your concern.”

You bowed your head when you could now hear the sharp disdain in his tone, the clear annoyance he now felt for your behavior.

“I-I’m sorry. I won’t ask again.”

You kept your head low, didn’t dare to look up. It was only when you heard his footsteps walking again that you looked back up and did your best to follow him. You didn’t want to be scolded again. There were so many questions and worries in your mind yet you had to silence them all.

When Muzan slid open the shoji doors which led to his room, you were right behind him. You could very faintly identify some furniture within the room, even though the lack of any candlelight made you still uneasy.

Both of you stood there, in his room where you had catered to his health for so many nights on end. It was a room more familiar to you than your parent’s house yet you had never felt more uncomfortable than in this moment. You stood silently right behind him, not moving and not speaking until he would do it first.

“Sit down.”

You slowly bent your knees down, your fingers stretching out to feel the floor beneath you so that you wouldn’t accidentally sit on something that was laying on the ground. As soon as you were seated on the floor, you folded your hands politely in your lap. Your eyes kept on glancing at his form briefly before going back to your lap.

“Stay here and wait for me.”

You nodded your head, although you weren’t even sure if he could even see it due to the darkness. You could sense his body passing your own sitting on the ground before he was gone, even his footsteps disappearing after a while. That’s when you let out a deep breath you hadn’t even been aware that you had held in. Your chest felt heavy as you took deep breaths to regulate your beating heart. The pressure and anxiety you had been feeling since he had found you outside had had a bigger toll on you than you had anticipated.

Muzan was your master and you held him dear in your heart but within the confinement of the heavy darkness, you found yourself dreading his return.

It was the beam of light that caught your attention whilst you were sitting and waiting for him. You could see it through the shoji doors as the brightness approached where you were. There was a sense of security washing over you when you saw the light. When the doors were slid open, your surroundings were instantly dipped in the dull yet warm light of the lantern Muzan had brought with him. Relief took hold of you when you could finally see your surroundings better. You wanted to thank Muzan for his consideration but your words got lost in your throat when you were finally able to take your first good look at his face.

He had always been pale as he had been forced to spend most of his days inside, sick and bedridden. Right now, even in the gentle glow of the lantern he was holding up, you could see that his skin was paler than it had ever been before. It almost reminded you of the drained face of a dead person. Only that Muzan didn’t look like he was close to death. The dark rings under his eyes were gone and you were sure that he had gained muscles on what used to be a fragile and ill body.

What caught you by surprise the most were the plum red eyes that were looking at you. Muzan had never had red eyes. His stare was cruel and unforgiving and it matched the cold tone he had used on you ever since you had returned. Those red eyes made your chest tighten, made you hyperaware of every breath you struggled to take in as quietly as possible. Your mind was racing, trying to come up with an explanation of what you were seeing right now.

“You-you look a lot…better.” You spoke with an audible tremble in your voice. You had wanted to say “healthy” at first but this sickly pale skin of his didn’t allow you to do so.

The silence didn’t break with your words as you had hoped. Instead it only increased your uncomfortableness and nervousness as those red eyes appeared to stare straight into your soul. You had to suppress the urge to swallow, his look giving you the impression that by merely opening your mouth you would do something to displease him.

Muzan put the lantern wordlessly down, his gaze focusing on the source of light for a moment before he turned away. He wasn’t looking at you though, his back facing you as he turned into the other direction. You could see how he lifted up one of his hands, curling it into a fist before uncurling it again. He did this multiple times, flexing the muscles on his arm as if needing the reassurance that it was real.

“The medicine worked.”

It should have been a sentence that would bring you joy and relief. Muzan was healed. He would live. Yet why didn’t he sound happy? Why did he sound so angry?

“That’s a good thing… You must be relieved.” You still decided to say, although you made it sound more like a question than a statement.

When he turned his head around and his crushing gaze found yours, you almost felt the weight on your shoulders. Your body sank further down, your shoulders hunched over and your head hanging low as you attempted to make yourself smaller. You should have just stayed quiet after all.

“Relieved?”

Your heart dropped when he closed the distance between you two with a few long strides. Chills erupted all over your skin when icy hands grabbed your face and forced you to look up. So cold. His skin was so cold that it felt like the hands of death were gripping your face tightly. Red eyes were blazing with such anger and frustration, his pupils narrowing into slits as his nails dug into the skin of your face.

“It’s not enough, (y/n). I’m close… So close to becoming the perfect being and yet I’m being it denied. How can I feel relieved when I can’t walk in the sun?”

His glare was scorching and freezing you at the same time as cold sweat started coating your skin. Your breath was shaky, your heartbeat drumming against your rib cage as you squirmed in his hold. You didn’t understand anything that he was saying. It sounded like he had lost it yet there was this twisted anguish on his face that gave you a bad feeling.

“Muzan…You’re hurting me!”

You cried out as your hands started grasping his biceps to pry his hands away from your face. His nails were embedded in your skin and had already created crescent-shaped imprints. The hold he had on you was still tightening as his emotions of anger seemed to overflow. You were afraid that his nails would break through your skin at any moment.

That’s when he suddenly let go of you and pushed you forcefully back. Your body flew backwards before your back made a sudden and forceful impact with the floor beneath you. A pained groan left your lips, your hands grasping the material of the futon that was lying behind you. Your breath left your mouth in stuttering patterns, tears gathering in your eyes as you looked up at Muzan like a scared child.

Your chest tightened and your lips started wobbling. Those plum red eyes were unforgiving and cruel as they scrutinized you without any hint of sympathy.

“What did you do to all the servants and your parents?”

The words had left you before you had been able to even grasp your thoughts. You didn’t even know from where these words had come from. When you felt a knot in your chest though, one consisting of anxiety and fear, you knew from where those words had originated from. It was a bad foreboding that had now manifested as you tried to endure his cruel eyes.

Nothing on his face changed. The cruelty, the coldness, the apathy remained on it as he answered your question.

“I killed them.”

His words were so uncaring, so indifferent that it almost made your heart stop. You couldn’t even begin to phantom how anyone could talk so detached about people who had cared for them their entire lives.

However…if he had killed all of them…Why had he called you here?

You scrambled slowly away from him as if slower movements wouldn’t trigger him to jump on you. Your heart was hurting from its racing speed and your chest felt as if it was made out of stone as every breath you drew in felt difficult.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

Your voice sounded pathetic as you whimpered the accusation. You couldn’t help it though, you were too scared to care about this. At your words, Muzan tilted his head in a dangerous way as if the sound of your soft crying annoyed him.

“Kill you?”

You couldn’t quite tell if the short flicker of pitiful amusement was only an imagination of your hearing or not. Your body started stiffening when he stepped closer to you. Every movement felt heavy as it felt like your limbs had been turned into stone when you shuffled away from him again. Your movements looked clumsy, a strong contrast to his own. There was confidence in every twitch of his muscles, his eyes glowing with a new emotion that you pinpointed down to be anticipation and desire. His gaze was so intense, so thorough that you felt vulnerable and exposed as if those eyes had stripped you completely naked.

When he finally knelt down to your height, your breath got caught in your throat. You could almost feel the inhumane coldness of his skin and as a reaction goosebumps started to appear all over your skin.

Your stomach was twisting and turning with nausea as you saw his eyes traveling over the swell of your breasts and the curves of your body. You felt violated but there was also a steady fear rising inside of you due to the lust you saw in his piercing red orbs.

"I didn't call you here to kill you." He began as one of his hands came up to rest on your hips, his thumb digging into the skin of your pelvis. Your throat closed up when he leaned close, too close for you.

"I want something else from you."

No...

You couldn't stop the salty tears from cascading down your cheeks as you shook your head in useless resistance. Your hands trying to push against his toned chest did nothing as he pushed you down, your body halfway on the futon and halfway on the tatami floor.

"Undress."

He told, no, demanded from you in an authoritarian voice that almost made you want to obey out of fear of what would happen if you wouldn't do as he said. Apparently your hesitation was already enough to anger him as you could see from the way his eyes narrowed as he observed you.

"What's wrong?"

Your mouth was agape as you tried to force anything out of your mouth.

"I-I don't want to do this." You ultimately spoke, honestly expressing your emotions as you started sobbing in silent terror. Your vision was blurry as the tears wouldn't stop.

A short burning flicker of anger you had never seen been directed at you before his cold palm struck you with a strength that made your head nearly collide with the floor. You started crying harder as you felt the hot and pulsing pain on the entire half of your face.

Muzan had just hit you. He had never done this before.

"Have you forgotten that you are my servant? A servant doesn't speak up against their master. Do you understand, (y/n)? Do you understand why I have to punish disobedience?"

You were looking at him with wide eyes. You felt the urge to throw up but you swallowed the acetous bile down your throat as you bit your lips in pain and nodded.

"If you understand, then do as I say."

With the pain still throbbing on the side of your face, your hands shakily peeled off all the layers of your clothing. You could see now that your entire body had started trembling. Fear, shame and humiliation were all mixing together in your core as you could see the greed and the lust in his eyes.

He was now right above you, his long hair touching your face as his hands rested on either side of your head.

"That's better. Now do the same for me."

You had to muffle your cries by biting your lips as you shuffled around to get his robes off of him. Your warm body was forced to touch his cold one as you did so and you didn't know if you were only imagining it but you could have sworn that you could his heartbeat from multiple parts of his body at once. His eyes monitored your shaky hands closely as you slowly pushed his own yukata off of his body. When you saw his already half-erect cock, you had to really suppress the urge to dry heave.

"That wasn't that hard now, was it? That's a good girl."

You flinched when the same hand which had struck you was now caressing your stinging face, the coolness of his skin now almost soothing your burning cheek.

Your hands, still clutching his shed yukata tightly as a way to vent out some of your turbulent emotions slowly pulled back to your own body. Only that they were stopped when Muzan grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

"Your job isn't done yet."

You knew exactly what he meant when you glanced back to his half-hard member. You wanted to cry, to scream to push him away and run but all of those urges were eclipsed by the overwhelming fear his eyes alone spawned inside of you. So you could only continue sobbing silently as you forced your trembling fingers around his cock and started squeezing and rubbing up and down his pale shaft all whilst Muzan was watching you, only adding to your growing shame.

The only thing you were grateful for was that the tears flowing down your face blurred your vision so that you couldn't notice every vein visible on his hardening manhood. You had to really focus on not pulling away the moment you felt the pre-cum on the tip of his penis that was smeared all over his shaft and your palms as you slid your hands steadily and clumsily over his dick. Through your tears you could barely see the way his eyes twitched occasionally, his brows knitting as he forced you to pleasure his cock.

"Stop."

You pulled back almost too fast and for a moment you were worried that you had offended him. When he forced you to spread your legs further apart though, you knew that he had other plans with you now. You could only watch through your tear-stained eyelashes how he positioned yourself and how he took one last anticipating look at your body.

He gave you no warning and no preparation before he brutally entered you dry. You let out a scream as he forced himself with one smack of his hips fully inside of you, your tight walls in searing pain as they struggled to adapt to the rapid intrusion. Your legs were cramping and kicking around, your hands grasped the futon beneath you tightly until your knuckles turned white. You saw black dots dancing across your vision as you could only gasp for breath whilst tasting your own salty tears. The burning pain spread from your lower regions to your stomach, your gut churning around and pushing the acidic bile up your throat again.

You wanted to beg him to pull out or to at least have enough mercy to give your body some time to prepare but the pain cut out your ability to speak as only whimpers could leave your mouth. Perhaps even if you would have begged him, he wouldn't have listened.

"Tell me how much you love me whilst I fuck you into the mattress.”

That is the only warning you got yet your scrambling mind still isn’t prepared when he starts thrusting in and out of you with the same brutal hip movements without giving you any break. You could barely catch a break as he pulled out almost completely until only his tip was kissing your burning hole before thrusting with full force back inside of you until his hips met your own. Your whole body was bouncing with every intense slap of his hips and your sobbing only continued as every intrusion of his cock in your most sacred body part renewed the pain. You could barely process what was happening around you, the pain all-consuming.

Muzan and you were on completely different spectrums of emotions. Every thrust of his body that brought you agony brought him sparking pleasure. Tight. You were so deliciously tight as your warm walls struggled to wrap around his thick girth. He had always known this but now he could really feel that you were a virgin. Untainted, unclaimed and ripe for him to take.

He had always fantasized about what you would feel even when he had been sick and weak. But even his greatest dreams could have never prepared him for the euphoric feeling of plunging inside those plush virgin walls and shaping your insides to take him in perfectly. It was exhilarating. It was euphoric. And it wouldn't be the last time.

You let out a strangled sob when he suddenly grabbed your hips and lifted them up, allowing his dick to disappear even deeper into parts that no one before him had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. He intended to keep it that way.

Sweat and tears were coating your face, your stomach twisting and turning in a nauseating mixture of pain, disgust and the occasional spark of growing pleasure. As hard as you tried, it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his length defiling you and brushing against your seared and sensitive walls.

When he ankled his cock in a particular way, you let out a shriek as the pain abruptly exploded and ripped away at your insides. Your cries rose in volumes in response yet Muzan didn't slow down at all.

You made the mistake of glancing down and when you saw his cock sliding in and out of you, coated in the little bit of slick you had started producing and your own blood, you wanted to throw up. The sight went right through yout intestines and you started heaving. You pressed the back of your hand against your mouth, trying your best to suppress the gagging reflex that threatened to cause you to vomit.

The moment he tore something inside of you and caused you to bleed though, you heard a growl coming from him. You dared to glance up at him and felt your blood freezing. You saw his eyes turning to thin slits as his nostrils flared up as he took in the sweet aroma of your blood. His lips parted as he bared his sharp teeth, his pupils quivering as if he was a wild animal about to devour his prey. His gaze flew down, staring at the part of your body where both of you merged and at the sight of your blood, he could feel his mouth salivating. Even your blood was lovely.

It took some willpower before he was able to tear his gaze away from your bleeding vagina and back to your face. You were a mess. Your face was sticky with hot sweat, tears and snot all running down your face. You looked at him with such despair in your eyes, your mouth trying to form words but unable to let out anything else besides sobs that probably would have broken the heart of everyone else. But Muzan wasn't everyone else.

His head was suddenly pressed against your neck, taking in deep breaths as he could hear and feel your racing pulse against his cold lips and the flowing blood right beneath your skin.

When one of his hands roughly seized your shoulder to stop you from squirming so much and you could already feel his tongue drawing over your skin as if searching for a good spot to start, your trembles intensified. Yet you knew that you could do nothing as you felt another additional pain when sharp teeth bit into your flesh and you could feel the vibrations of a growling moan of pleasure resonating somewhere from deep within his chest.

Your sweet blood melted on his tongue as he dug his tongue into the wound, greedy for more of it. It was a delicate and flavourful taste, far better than any of the flesh he had tasted from his parents and all the other servants.

You were shaking, heaving, sobbing as everything became too much for you and all the different sensations overwhelmed you and slaughtered your coherent thoughts and senses. The searing pain between your legs, your guts clenching around whatever food was still being digested inside of you, your body heaving the acidic taste up to the back of your throat only for you to swallow it constantly down again, the skin of your face tingling with all the salty tears streaming down, the burning sting of the bites Muzan placed all over your shoulders and chest, the multiple heartbeats you could feel through his cold skin as he pressed you beneath his body further into his futon and somewhere in between all of that the dull knot of pleasure somewhere else in your body.

All of it melted together into one giant blop of sensations that blackened your vision and made your ears ring. Everything felt overwhelming to in one moment and then dull and distant in the next moment as your brain started shutting down.

You wanted to embrace that pitch-black nothingness, you could almost grasp it...

Then something tore through all of your senses like a tsunami with such an intensity that for a few seconds you were wide awake. Your eyes flew open, your whole body was trembling with spasms and you opened your mouth to let out a high-pitched scream as it came over you and held you in its hold for a few seconds. You felt your walls clamping down around Muzan's length and somewhere within the depth of your mind you finally understood that you were having an orgasm as your vision was overwritten by pure white for a few fleeting moments before it all stopped as abruptly as it had come and your body fell limply back onto the futon.

You could still feel Muzan snapping his pelvis against your own, his speed increasing as he could feel your own body coming around his cock before with one last grunt he pressed himself as deeply inside of your bleeding warmth as possible as he reached his own orgasm. You could faintly feel thick spurts of cum staining your insides as he kept on grinding his pelvis against yours for a few seconds to fully ride his orgasm out before he stopped.

You didn't know what he was planning to do now and you didn't care anymore either. All you cared about were those dark spots taking over your vision, promising you temporary release from all of this.

"You haven't told me yet."

Through your slowly darkening vision, you could make out his face. There was a frown on his face that expressed his mild annoyance but for whatever reason he didn't seem as mad as he had been before. Perhaps because he had released all pent-up emotions on you.

Your mind was working very slowly as you tried to understand what he meant. What did he want you to say?

"Tell me that you love me." He repeated for you and you could faintly recall that he had said that before he had raped you and abused you. You stared at him as your mind started drifting away, his face slowly vanishing until only those red eyes remained that seemed to find you even in this darkness. You could only feel it from far away when he started thrusting inside of you again, not done with you yet.

"I love you. More than anyone else." Was the only coherent thing you were able to conjure up before your consciousness was swallowed by the dark nothingness where even those haunting red eyes couldn't reach you...

---

Your head was propped up by him with one arm as the other one gently pushed a cup of water through your lips and teeth, forcing the cooling liquid down your dry and burning throat. You looked for the first time on that night peaceful within the depths of unconsciousness where he couldn't reach you yet. A part of the demon didn't want you to have this rest. He wanted to force you to say his name over and over again and have you screaming that you belonged to him whilst cumming around his dick yet he had to remain himself that you were only a human. Weak and limited.

He had been like that not too long ago too, only that he had been even weaker than you had been. His entire life had been nothing but a pathetic fight against death and his own useless body. Now that Muzan had been stripped off his humanity and mortality though, he felt a confidence and strength that he had never been able to experience before.

As he gazed at your sleeping face, he couldn't help but reminisce about how long he had been longing for you already yet had been tied down by his own sick body. He had always wanted to ask for you to marry him yet he had been far too ashamed of his own pathetic condition to do so. So when he had been told that he wouldn't even live longer than twenty years, the desperation had crushed him as he had realized something.

That you would never be his. That you would move on after his death, marry a healthy and strong man, bear his children and eventually completely forget about him. He hadn't even been able to look at you after the visit from the doctor without imagining it. How dare you being able to forget about him? Bitterness had tarnished him and had turned his love for you partially into hatred as he had started harboring a resentment against you and your kind words tainted in pity for his health. Every gaze and every action from your side had felt like an insult to him as he had grown to fully despise how you had secretly looked down on him for his inevitable death. It had always felt wrong.

Now everything was right though. Now everything was finally as it should have been from the start.

He took notice of the way you started shuddering when he wrapped his arms around you, his body not providing any warmth for you. He narrowed his eyes, contemplating something before he grabbed the blanket that was lying on the end of the futon before wrapping it around you, giving you the warmth you were seeking for subconsciously. Then he wrapped his arms around you again, hoping that the blanket would shield you from his cold skin. He pressed his face against the back of your neck, taking deep breaths of the stenching smell of blood, sweat, tears and sex clinging to your skin.

He would have to keep you inside the house as soon as the sun would rise but it was very unlikely that you would be able to move your body around in the first place after he had finally claimed you.

He finally had you. The only thing that was missing now was the Blue Spider Lily...

#yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere muzan #yandere kibutsuji muzan #yandere x reader #muzan x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader

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petew21-blog · 2 months ago

Text

Healthcare insurance

Doctor Green approached his oncology patient in the ICU. The old man, Benedict Brown, suffering from lung cancer, was in the hospital for his late diagnosis of his condition, which wasn't improving.

Dr. Green:"Mr. Brown, I don't have very good news. The tumour is a small cell lung carcinoma. It is the direct result of your smoking. Unfortunately it is very aggressive and in your case has been diagnosed very late. We can offer you a support group along with some pain medication..."

Mr. Brown:"Are you JOKING ME?!? When I came months ago, you said it was just... eh ehh ehhhh cough cough... Just cough. And now you're telling me I'm gonna die?"

Dr. Green:"I'm very sorry sir. We did everything we could, but the diagnosis is final in this case and overall the condition can be hard to diagnose in early stages"

Mr. Brown:"You're just trying to get out of this so you won't feel guilty. For not treating me as you should. You turned me away and you know it damn well"

Dr. Green:"Sir, if there was something I could do, I would. But I am out of my options"

Mr. Brown smiled. "Oh there is one option. Come closer I can tell you. But send everyone away."

Dr. Green hesitated. But did as he said. Dr. Green sat down on a chair next to Mr. Green.

Dr. Green:"Ok. So tell me."

Mr. Brown grabbed Dr. Green's hand and started the incantation. Dr. Green could feel how the man's cold hands started getting warmer and warmer. And suddenly, he felt the warm presence all over his body.

Mr. Brown opened his eyes. He was sitting now and looking at the old man on the bed. He looked down and saw a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck. He inhaled a big ammount of air. "What a relief"

As soon as he said that, his old body started coding. He pushed the button and started doing a CPR. The doctors did what they could, but couldn't save the old man. Or atleast his body

But Mr. Brown didn't really care. Because he was now a young healthy doctor. And this time. He was gonna live his best life

Dr. Green:"What's happening?"

Mr. Brown:"Ahh, you're here too? You were supposed to die in my body. Oh well, I guess I can handle one black passenger."

Dr. Green:"How did you do this? Mr. Brown, you have to get out of my body!!!"

Mr. Brown:"You know what? I don't have to get out. This is my body now. And I'm gonna enjoy it"

Mr. Brown:"Fuck yeah, look at me in these sunglasses and a vest. Now your body has atleast some style, doctor. You should thank me. You were in desperate need of a makeover."

Dr. Green:"My wife will know it's not me. She will figure it out"

Mr. Brown:"Right. She won't last with me for too long. I can tell you that"

Mr. Brown:"The same goes for your job. I won't stay in healthcare with a body like this. That would be a waste of time. Now, I really wanna smoke so bad."

He got out of the car and lit a cigarette. He coughed

Dr. Green:"My body isn't used to it. You can't smoke"

Mr. Brown:"Oh don't worry about it. I'll get used to it pretty soon. Also, I don't need to smoke right now. Just need it to get some photos for Grindr"

Dr. Green:"Grindr? Isn't that for gay people?"

Mr. Brown:"Great job, Dr. Green. Exactly"

Mr. Brown:"Man, look at me. I look good. The jeans, the leather. The smoke. I look so fucking good. Thanks for the body doc. Since you killed mine. Oh yeah. Look at that. That's the one for Grindr"

Dr. Green couldn't believe what was happening. His own body was smoking and doing things he would never do. He was controlled by someone else, possibly forever. What was he gonna do? He can't stay like this forever. But what if he has to?

In the nearby alley the two men were kissing passionately. The younger one pushed the other against the wall, pressing his hard dick against his.

The man:"Aren't you a bit young for me?"

Mr. Brown laughed:"Well. What can I say? I'm an old soul"

Could you make a story in which a man who suffers from lung cancer takes revenge on his young doctor for not being able to cure him, possessing him and turning him into a smoker and gay? You could do the perspective of the old man in his new body and the young doctor being possessed and forced to see his changed appearance. I really like this guy by the way. https://www.tumblr.com/male-meat-suit/724018661918195712/maybe-a-story-with-this-one?source=share

#male possession #body possession #posession #possession male #Doctor possession #Criminal possession

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copperbadge · 4 months ago

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How did you find the doctor(s) who assessed you for ADHD? Im looking into the process of getting diagnosed because (although ive suspected I might have adhd for years now) I've been struggling a lot more lately and i want to try medication to see if it helps at all. Im trying to search for psychiatrists through my health insurance portal but the the results im getting are all for child/adolescent psychiatry specialists, and I dont think that'll be much help for an adult adhd assessment? Did you have an established therapist to refer you for your assessment or were you able to find a psychiatrist independently?

I actually just kind of had to freeform it, but that does mean I have some tips to share!

I will say, I have never once used a health insurance portal to find someone to treat me for anything. Often their search engine is fucked up and the information is sometimes out of date. I almost always either ask someone who I know has had similar issues if they have a recommendation, ask my treating physician if I have one, or just google until I find someone reputable-looking; any qualified medical center or professional will list what insurance they take anyway, and you can always ask when you make the appointment.

So here's the process for how to do that!

When I was first considering it, I asked a friend who'd had an evaluation that came back not-ADHD, which I liked because it meant we knew it wasn't like, a weird Adderall pill mill or something. I really wanted to have a professional and thorough evaluation because I knew myself and knew I was capable of gaming a questionnaire. The place she had her evaluation was unfortunately having some staffing issues; part of the reason it took me so long is that I played phone tag with them for ages -- I'd call, and regardless of what time of day I called, their scheduler would be "out", so I'd leave a message and never get a call back. Ultimately I said "I really need to talk to a human, because your scheduler has not returned any of my numerous calls" and they said they could transfer me to another office outside of Chicago (in the burbs). That was not going to be accessible to me, so I told them thanks but I'll go somewhere else. Then COVID hit and I was not going to go anywhere near a medical center unless I had to for about two years.

So, when I was making my second serious run at getting evaluated, I did what might be expected of me by longtime readers of this blog: I made a spreadsheet.

I want to caveat this up top with REALLY IMPORTANT CONTEXT: I did not do all of this in a single day. The process from starting research to making an evaluation appointment took about a month, and probably would have taken longer if I wasn't getting somewhat desperate. Do not push yourself to do this as a single act. Research alone is a multi-day process; some days I looked at the open tabs and only entered one tab's worth of information. It took me quite a bit of time to write the form email I sent inquiring about an assessment. It took me time to call the clinic back when they asked me to call to book the appointment. This is a series of steps, not a single leap.

So!

I was looking for a clinic rather than an individual, in part because I'd heard a couple of horror stories about people who went to a psychiatrist and just got argued with for an hour instead of actually getting evaluated. So I googled, and here are some key terms for you, chicago adult adhd assessment. Chicago obviously for the region, but "adult adhd" (putting it in quotes will help) is the important term that will help you filter out a lot of child psych stuff. A lot of what I looked at did included family or child assessment/therapy but were clear that they also evaluated adults.

Then I went through every legit-looking search result and noted down, in my spreadsheet, the name of the clinic/company, the contact phone and email, the URL, the physical location (I needed to be able to get to it fairly easily) and whether they took my insurance. Even if they didn't take my insurance (all but one did) I still put them into the spreadsheet so that if I found them again I could check the sheet and know I didn't need to investigate further. I also tended to bump more legitimate and friendly-looking places to the top of the sheet. And if I were going to do it again I would also look for one specific thing, which is an assessment guide of some kind.

The assessment guide may be something they only give you after you speak with them, so it's not a no-go if they don't have one on their website, but it basically tells you what generally will go on during the assessment, how long it will take, and what you should bring. A full assessment like I had is estimated to take 4-6 hours and they recommended I wear layers so I wouldn't be overly cold/warm in their office, and to bring a snack. That's the kind of information you want, duration of the assessment and what they recommend for you, to ensure that you're working with people who are thorough and care about your comfort.

So, I have this spreadsheet now of places to reach out to, which I know take my insurance and do adult assessment. In the spreadsheet I also had columns for what date I contacted them and whether they'd responded. I started reaching out via email, one per day, with the form email I'd written.

The form email basically said "I'm 42 with no previous diagnosis but I have a family history of autism and dyslexia. I've been told I should get assessed for ADHD, so I'm looking for a clinic that will do the assessment and takes (my insurance). I prefer to be contacted by email but if need be, my phone number is (phone number). Please let me know if you have any open appointments and what information you will need from me to book an evaluation with you." (You can always ask for more information about the actual evaluation process once they respond.)

If I didn't get a response within 24 hours, I moved on to the next, but I only greyed out the text in that line of the spreadsheet; I didn't disqualify/remove the nonresponsive ones because again, I wanted to make sure I kept that information in case they eventually did respond. I did this with about ten clinics, because I figured I must be able to find at least one in ten who could do the eval, and I could go back and research more if necessary.

I think the third or fourth one I reached out to was the first to respond, and I ended up going with them; I had a very positive experience in the assessment itself but it was a real pain in the ass getting the documentation from them -- they took about a month to go through the evaluation data (this is not abnormal but is rather longer than usual according to my psychiatrist) and they gave me an in-person-by-zoom report once it was ready. That said, it took another four months and the threat of reporting them to the state to get them to send me the text of the eval (in part because the evaluator left the clinic unexpectedly with my formal report not yet written). But that's something that's truly impossible to know until you're working with them, and highly unusual, so don't let concerns about that deter you. If you end up in that situation come hit me up and I'll tell you how I dealt with that.

My eval recommended an executive function coach, but if I haven't been able to func it by now I never will, so I thanked them for the recommendation and went looking for a psychiatrist unaffiliated with the clinic to prescribe me meds. There, the key words you're going to be looking for are again "adult adhd" but also "adult disability" and if you want medication that's less likely to be a huge fucking hassle, "medication management". My psychiatrist and I meet every two months to reup my prescription, but he doesn't require me to take a regular drug test or meet him in person in order to get a new scrip, as some people have encountered. We meet in person once or twice a year (I can't remember, it's due to a legal requirement in Illinois) but otherwise it's over zoom.

So yeah -- it's a process, but there are ways to streamline and manage it, and a few tripwires in place to make sure you don't end up screwed by the system. Definitely feel free to ask if you have questions, either here or if you want a more indepth conversation you can email me at [email protected]. GOOD LUCK!

#sam has adhd #adhd #evaluation

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acapelladitty · 4 months ago

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Batman: Arkham Session #1

Summary: After an incident at work, Edward Nashton is assigned to Dr. Jonathan Crane for psychological assessment. A decision which places both men in the firing line.

One half of an exchange with the incredible @skxtchyghost who has the absolutely amazing art half of this little encounter here!

Fic Masterlist /// Link to A03

From the moment he laid eyes on him, Jonathan Crane could tell that Edward Nashton would be less than an ideal patient. From the way that he lounged carelessly in his chair to his casual gaze which swept along the many achievements and objects which littered the walls of Jonathan's office.

Every inch of the lanky frame screamed difficult and Jonathan found his mood worsening as he shifted past the meagre introductions which had been shared.

Jonthan flicked his eyes over the notes he had been provided from the incident report as his left hand rose to adjust the bolo tie which hung loosely around his throat.

"You destroyed a workstation in a fit of," Jonathan lifted the top sheet of paper from his clipboard as he quoted the report directly, "obvious rage while using considerably inappropriate language. These are not the actions of a rational man."

Unapologetic, Edward spread his hands in a wide gesture as a defensive smile stretched across his lips.

"I'm the only rational man in this city."

"Oh?"

Really having a limited interest in whatever nonsense Edward was about to spout, Jonathan made a quick note on his clipboard - ready to simply diagnose him with some asinine anxiety disorder and throw some medication at him to quell the worst of his obvious symptoms.

"The others are so willing to ignore the corruption," Edward continued with a growing irritation, "how unbearably stupid and foolish the criminals that rule this city choose to be."

"Harsh allegations."

"Only because the evidence is routinely destroyed. Weeks of work erased in an instance because a particular name would rather not be associated with the actions investigated." His tone snappy, Edward was clearly not at peace with his treatment and Jonathan frowned at the sudden emotional outburst. "Weeks! Good work. No recognition. Only a sharp reminder that our job is to catch real criminals."

"I can imagine the frustration."

Something in Edward's expression shifted and Jonathan tensed as he took in the change in body language, the immediate aggression which crawled into his leaning frame and clenching fists as Edward met his gaze without flinching. It was an open challenge and Jonathan would not back down as he accepted and adjusted his glasses to allow him to keep Edward's attention.

"You bore me. Don't feed me the words I want to hear, Doctor."

"Interesting. Do you see me as your enemy?"

Wary but slightly more interested in his patient, Jonathan asked the question with the smallest of smiles.

"Yes. Your work is as corrupted as mine even if your corruption comes from a more personal insistence."

Jonathan's blood ran cold.

"I do not know you, Mr. Nashton. Neither do you know me."

He couldn't know.

No one knew.

Especially not a jumped up technician from the GCPD.

No.

He was just fishing for information, attempting to claw back the control of the situation by fabricating infor-

"Your purchasing history is interesting, both online and in your role within this asylum." Edward grinned, his body language relaxing into something almost smug. "Meaningless to a layman, but a small touch of research and critical thinking goes to show just how dangerous the various chemicals and research papers you collect could be. Pair that with the increased reports of catatonia which patients under your care have been reduced to and we have something approaching a pattern."

"Mr. Nashton, these delusions do nothing to further yo-"

Rudely, Jonathan found himself cut off by a childish wave.

"Your business is your own and I have no reason to care for any of the degenerates in this building. My work is almost finished and I have my own important business to attend to. Where our paths cross is that I require a clean bill of health to leave my job with the appropriate supports in place."

Smiling widely, his glasses pushed tight against his eyes, Edward perched his fingers on the light-coloured vest which covered his shirt as his cheap shoes tapped a soft rhythm to the carpet. Opposite him, Jonathan felt much more uptight - the shift in dynamic having put his teeth on edge as the urge to regain control of the situation tempted him into dangerous territory.

"You're blackmailing me." Jonathan gritted out.

"If you choose to view it as such then yes. I choose to view it as a mutual exchange of services." Shrugging, Edward caught his hands between his knees. "You clear me, and I erase some of the more unsavoury purchases that you have unsuccessfully distanced from your name."

Seeing each other plainly, Jonathan abandoned any pretence of playing the game and his expression soured into open distaste, regarding Edward with contempt.

"And what guarantees do I have that you are speaking the truth? One word from me and you will be locked away with the worst that Gotham has to offer." Flashing a cruel grin, filled with yellowing teeth, Jonathan tilted his head. "I could have you in a shared cell which houses violence that would easily end a man like yourself."

"All my information is due to release at a specific time if I am not available to prevent it. Risk it all and see."

Reclining once more, Edward presented his hand before himself as he investigated his nails with a forced nonchalance.

"So, Doctor Jonathan Crane, how are we going to move past this?"

#i want them both carnally btw #edward nygma #riddler #Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #edward nashton #arkham games #arkham shadow #arkham origins #dc comics #batman

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fellthemarvelous · 6 months ago

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Aziraphale hate makes my brain hurt.

Like let's be really fuckin' for real here.

Neurodivergent fans have repeatedly said that Aziraphale is autistic coded. I agree with them. I have never been diagnosed but I wonder about myself. If only I could get a doctor to take me seriously enough to test me for it, but alas, I'm a 43-year-old woman living in the good ole US of A.

Those with religious trauma have repeatedly said that they identify with him as well. I'm one of those people. I endured 12 years of Catholic schools and just as much time being taught a very black and white view of things that I've had to spend more than 20 goddamn fucking years working to unlearn.

I find that my views as a survivor of religious abuse are often dismissed because people keep wanting to say "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma." Yes, thank you, I get that, but unless you've been indoctrinated and brainwashed into a very black and white view of the world, you probably don't understand the kind of feelings Aziraphale's onscreen experiences evoke in so many of us. Heaven might not be real, but the feelings of "God is always watching" still stick with me today even though I no longer believe in God. I have entirely denounced Christianity because of my own personal experience, and I refuse to allow people to try and guilt me or shame me for trauma that I didn't ask for. I wasn't given a choice.

As a child I was told that God was real and always watching everything you do (just like Santa Claus) and can hear everything you say and knows everything you are thinking. Do you know what I learned to do in order to cope with this overwhelming and anxiety-inducing information as a small child? I learned to censor my thoughts. I never spoke up, and I have always felt like I was putting on a show for people because I had to be who I was told to be or I would get into trouble.

Aziraphale said "poverty is a virtue" during The Resurrectionists, and as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and went to private schools, I was taught this very same shit by the Catholic church. He learned in that very same episode that "poverty is a virtue" is actually a tool of oppression to keep the poor poor and the wealthy wealthy. I know we all watched the episode. He went into that episode believing what he said, but by the end of it he knew it was actually utter bullshit. Aziraphale is not ignorant. He's highly intelligent, and he has never been too proud to admit when he has been wrong. He accepts that the information he learned before is not matching up with reality.

And it's so obvious some of you have zero experience with that type of indoctrination because of how very little empathy you show Aziraphale for his "mistake" of "choosing Heaven over Crowley" and "making Crowley sad" so clearly Aziraphale must somehow be "abusive" and "manipulative" and "selfish" and "self-centered" because he didn't choose to run away with Crowley at the end of season two.

First of all.

FIRST OF ALL...

Aziraphale has a mind of his own.

Aziraphale is always going to try and do what is right.

Aziraphale is an angel. He's a being of love. And the reason he's so "bad" at being an angel is because he actually wants to protect humanity. He has always loved humanity. He repeatedly has to contend with what is "right" versus what is "good" and "wrong" versus "evil". Yeah, he has flaws. He's an angel, not a goddamn fucking saint. He has lived on Earth for more than 6,000 years. He has seen everything. He loves doing human things.

He's obsessed with magic. It makes him so happy. He's not very good at it...well not when he's trying to put on a show for Crowley.

He chose to learn French the hard way, so even though he knows every single language in the world, he chooses to be mediocre at French. Something that annoys and amuses Crowley at the same time.

He loves to dance even though angels aren't supposed to dance, and dancing with Crowley was what he wanted the most.

He owns a bookshop and refuses to sell any of his books because they are books he's had for as long as there have been books. He will chase customers away from his collection, and Crowley understands how much they mean to Aziraphale because he refuses to sell any when Aziraphale leaves him in charge.

He and Crowley have been speaking to each other in coded language for more than 6,000 years. They have to be very careful about what they say because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Heaven has photographs of Crowley and Aziraphale sitting or standing together throughout history. Hell had one photo of Crowley and Aziraphale actually working together and it was Aziraphale's quick thinking and how good he actually is at sleight of hand tricks that managed to get that photo out of Furfur's hands so he wouldn't be able to turn Crowley over to the Dark Council.

Aziraphale saved Crowley from being taken to Hell again. He wasn't able to save Crowley from Hell in Edinburgh, but he sure as heck managed to save Crowley from Hell during WWII. He took Crowley to his bookshop and showed Crowley that he stole the picture from Furfur. He saved Crowley.

You get that, right?

Aziraphale SAVED Crowley.

People always talk about how it's "always Crowley saving Aziraphale" because apparently heroic acts are only heroic when they are grand gestures. The sleight of hand wasn't heroic at all, am I right? It wasn't sparkly and showy. It wasn't interesting enough, therefore not heroic. At least that's all I'm hearing when people start with their "blah Aziraphale deserves to suffer because I have no imagination or ability to understand the media in front of me blah", and all these reasons he deserves to suffer is because Crowley almost got hurt.

Aziraphale did that without flinching and I watch that part closely every single time. He's not scared for himself. He's scared for Crowley, and he managed to hold onto that photograph. He did not fail Crowley. He protected Crowley.

And so here's another thing that we like to point out. The way that Aziraphale, an angel who is effeminate and male presenting, an angel who is soft and full of love, an angel who is kind and forgiving because he has empathy and compassion, is somehow painted as abusive and manipulative. He's not violent, but he could easily fuck up your world. He doesn't use his powers. We have no idea how powerful he is because we only ever see him do small acts. He's used to hiding. It's the only way he has ever been able to protect Crowley.

And I'm not saying that Aziraphale has actually saved Crowley before means that Crowley hasn't also saved Aziraphale. Like, you get that those are not mutually exclusive and their relationship is not transactional, right? They have spent their entire existence protecting each other but never actually getting to be together because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Yeah, Crowley fell. We all know this. We are aware of this. He was the serpent of Eden. He gave humanity the knowledge of free will.

But what we don't talk about is what Aziraphale gave humanity.

What did he give them?

We all know what it is!

Let's say it together!

He gave Adam and Eve his flaming sword because it was dangerous outside the garden and Eve was pregnant and she was already having a really bad day. He showed them compassion and gave them his extremely powerful angelic weapon so they would stand a chance on the outside of the garden. He gave humanity the gift of compassion. It's just unfortunate that his flaming sword became a weapon of War.

And then what did he do after that?

Ooooh, yeah, that's right.

God asked him about it and he straight up lied to her and pretended he had no idea where he'd managed to misplace it. She didn't say anything after that. He told Crowley the truth though. He told Crowley the truth even though Crowley fell.

Yeah, we know Aziraphale has done some really fucking questionable things. He and Crowley both suck at passing for human in front of observant people like Nina. They're not human. They are still learning, but they managed to experience human history together despite being on opposite sides and their experiences with humanity are what has shaped them into the compassionate and loving duo they are now. One of them is not better from the other.

This, my friends, is what we call meeting in the middle. It's why shades of gray is so important. Aziraphale constantly breaks the rules. Crowley refused to play by Heaven's rules. It's the reason he fell. He doesn't play by Hell's rules either. These two dorks figured out how to cancel each others' miracles out throughout human history in order to have more time learning about humanity and each other because working all day every day sucks when there are so many new things to learn and experience with the people you love.

We know Crowley and Aziraphale both love each other. Neither of them are good at hiding the hearts stars in their eyes.

But here's what's really fucking annoying about the Aziraphale hate.

Aziraphale was already crying when Crowley grabbed him and kissed him. Aziraphale is trying so very hard to do the right thing. He loves Crowley. He does. But he also has a duty to humanity, and he has taken that job very seriously since the creation of Adam and Eve. He sent them out into the world with a flaming sword so they would have a chance at surviving beyond the walls of the garden.

And he knows that Something Terrible is going to happen and he spent all of second season trying to figure out what that Something Terrible was while trying to have some sort of more honest and open relationship with Crowley, but again, they aren't human, they are a demon and an angel approaching life from opposite sides who met in the middle and fell in love with humanity together.

He wants more than anything to tell Crowley how he feels about him, but he wants to do something grand for Crowley because Crowley has always been grand and dramatic and sexy and a little bit scary.

Crowley is impulsive and has a temper and sometimes says the wrong thing but he has always trusted Aziraphale because Aziraphale gave him a chance even after he fell. Aziraphale chose to shelter him instead of smiting him while they stood on top of that wall. He knew he was supposed to kill Crowley, but oops, he gave his sword away to the humans so he didn't really have anything to kill him with and Crowley is the one who created nebulas. The Pillars of Creation is Crowley's work and Aziraphale was there to witness that, but he watched Crowley more than he watched the nebula. He witnessed the pure joy on Crowley's face when he said "let there be light" as a nebula full of colors exploded before their eyes. He was fascinated by Crowley.

But Aziraphale is going back to Heaven even though he has made it perfectly clear he absolutely has no desire to go back to Heaven. He told the Metatron this during their conversation. He spoke these words out loud. They exist.

But then The Metatron said this....

The Metatron. The very same angel who told Aziraphale in season one "to speak to me is to speak to the Almighty." He's the boss. He's the big guy. He's used to existing as a giant head and he had to give himself a body so he wouldn't stand out on Earth. And he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have been working together since the beginning. He knows they worked together to prevent Armageddon in season one, and now he's made it clear he knows they were working together long before that. And let's face it, Aziraphale really wants to know what this Something Terrible is that Gabriel is running from so he can try to prevent it from happening.

It makes sense that he would want to take Crowley to Heaven with him because he would be able to keep Hell from getting their hands on him again. Aziraphale hates it in Heaven. He doesn't want to go, but Something Terrible is happening and Metatron isn't taking no for an answer, and maybe Heaven won't be so bad if Crowley is there with him. At least they can fix Heaven together.

But Crowley can't go back. We all get that. We don't blame him for saying no. It doesn't change anything.

Something Terrible is about to happen and Aziraphale has to figure out what it is. He wants to change Heaven.

He is fully aware that Heaven sucks. He still has faith in God. His faith isn't in Heaven. He deserted his platoon in season one and threw himself back to Earth so he could figure out how to make sure the war between Heaven and Hell doesn't happen.

But see, here's the thing. Heaven is at the top. Heaven has all the resources. Heaven is responsible for the creation of Hell. Heaven is empty and Hell is overpopulated. Aziraphale knows this. Crowley knows this. It's obvious every time we see either place. Both sides are desperate to go to war and will not hesitate to destroy humanity in the process. This is the opposite of what Crowley and Aziraphale want for humanity. If anyone can change Heaven, it's Aziraphale. He's the only one up there who gives a shit about humanity as far as we know. No one else is going to speak on humanity's behalf.

Some of us are so busy getting mad at Aziraphale for going back to Heaven and giving Crowley a Big Sad. Newsflash: Crowley is not the main character of Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley are equals, yet we wanna hold Aziraphale to higher standards because he's an angel, and when he makes mistakes it's proof that he's the bad guy.

Holy mother of all things that trigger my religious trauma, let me tell you. I spent my entire life hating myself every time I made mistakes. I've had to teach myself that just because I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I'm bad. It means I'm human. I still struggle with it. I probably always will. So when you say that Aziraphale deserves to be punished for breaking Crowley's heart, you not only ignore that Aziraphale's heart is also broken, you're saying he deserves to be punished for doing what he thinks is right.

Wanting to change Heaven for the better is not a bad thing.

And some of y'all wanna see him suffer for going back into the lion's den that is Heaven, knowing that he is already an outcast, that they have already tried to kill him once, knowing that he is a deserter, that he has been lying to Heaven about a lot of things, and you still think he's blinded by Heaven? You think he's just so naive and that's the only reason he's going back. He doesn't show his emotions the same way Crowley does so it means he doesn't care as much. He's expected to consider Crowley's feelings over his own when making choices. Like holy shit if all of that hasn't defined my experience as a woman with religious trauma in this fucking society. He's expected to be subservient to Crowley and if he doesn't do what Crowley wants then he's being unreasonable and illogical.

What the actual fuck, y'all.

Like seriously.

I'm sick of this bullshit. I had to step away from this fandom because of how toxic some people in this fandom are. It's not chasing me away, but the fact that I chose to hang out in a a more toxic fandom that is already notorious for being really toxic over a fandom that claims to be more open-minded and welcoming should probably tell you something.

It gave me a lot of perspective, and yeah, I'm still gonna speak up against the bullshit Aziraphale hate.

People are entitled to their opinions, but the Aziraphale hate isn't an opinion. It's just ableist, misogynistic garbage. At this point we all know y'all say these extreme things about Aziraphale because y'all get more joy out of the harm and alienation it is causing others.

Keep being loudly wrong, but if you think I'm not entitled to challenge shitty-ass, harmful, hateful discourse, bite my ass.

I'm not the one who lost the plot in this fandom.

#autistic coded character #religious trauma #good omens #aziraphale #aziraphale defense squad #i'm in a mood #like i'm begging y'all to learn what empathy is #like goddamn i know i'm not perfect but at least i don't forget that the reason for everything in good omens is love #neil has said this several times #it's one thing to dislike a character #it's another to assassinate characters in ways that blatantly contradict what the narrative has told us #and try to pass it off as canon #if you wanna send me hate just hit the block button instead #i'll try to be really sad about it #and if you just have to send me hatemail at least have the courage to attach it to your name instead of hiding behind anon #i'm too old for this shit #i'm gonna go back to the star wars tag now #it's been a minute since i went off and today proved to be the perfect day for it

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fluff-n-cookies · 8 months ago

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Hey!! I was wondering if you are taking requests.

If you are, then. Couln you please write and Father Aizawa x daughter in which she is like really really depressed and he is sick worried for her?

Thankss 🤍🤍

Hello! thx for requesting! I'm not sure if you wanted a little story like a drabble or headcanons so I'm just going to default to do a mix of both. I also wrote it with clinical depression in mind I hope that's okay.

TW; clinical depression, angsty shit, I wrote about the symptoms of depression here: if you have multiple of these symptoms please consider getting diagnosed by a doctor. Aizawa had depression, fem reader.

Aizawa never was good with emotions, he was never the one to express his feelings because he never exactly needed to. Aizawa wouldn't exactly talk to her at first, instead opting to see it as her having an off day.

however, the weeks flew by and he saw less and less of her around the dorms, her friends who once talked to forever never seemed to see her anymore, and her smile. her smile had now been replaced with dead eyes and a soul corrupt.

another week, when disrupted she would bite back. her usual reply to the question "how are you today?" was once "wonderfully really!" about now it was either a comment overflowing with sarcasm or a harsh "leave me alone."

she then start to bounce her leg a lot more, scratch her arms, and doom-scroll on her phone like a life line rather than train to be a hero like she would during her previous years at UA or read her favorite book genres.

and the dead look in her eyes told him everything.

he too had that look in his eyes in his life too.

he had the tattoo of a semicolon with a heart to show for it.

it was the dead of night when he finally approached her, the sun had set and the stars that night felt as dull as her mind. the blinding white lights of the kitchen remain on as she wept amongst her sorrows. sleep deprived eyes turned redder than they already are from the sting of her never ending tears.

she did not deserve this.

the air was cold in that room, clammy hands shaking didn't help much either.

Aizawa said nothing when he saw the slight before him,

he had done the same at one point too.

this situation was delicate glass, for the person before him was not the strong girl he "knew". this was the soft, misshapen, confused, and scared blob that no longer had the hard and heavy armor to protect her.

he wanted nothing more to hug her when she looked at him with scared eyes and a tear stained cheeks.

"Aizawa Sensei I-" she started, the voice cracks made it all the more pitiful.

"I came to get water." his voice unwavering, there was only room for one mentally unstable person in that tiny kitchen and he loved her too much to take the position of being the one crying.

he felt bad, he knew that feeling of either being empty or being overridden with that burden in your heart you don't know the name of. a constant reminder of doom that has your heart in a choke hold.

but this was still as fragile as anything.

he poured himself a glass of water,

the tension was thick and odd.

he sat down,

he could practically feel the labored breaths she took, the shaking, the empty feeling in her chest. like she was dying and from the inside out. the crying must have taken a toll on her too for her cheeks were red from the tears.

he sat next to her, sitting in front of her may make her feel like he was going to scold her.

"would you like to talk about it?"

"...please... no... I don't think I can..." it was hard to believe this was the voice of the girl he remembered so fondly as his favorite student.

I suppose even the moon has a dark side.

"okay, you need to though." voice steady like a rock you trust never to crumble.

"what?" her voice quivering.

"It know it's hard,

I know it's going to take a while,

but you can succeed,

just please let me help you."

the room went silent for a moment, he passed you the glass of water.

"drink, tomorrow, you are spending your day with Hound Dog, you don't have to talk with him about this specifically, just talk with him until we can understand what is actually happening. you need someone to talk to. you can bail at anytime."

"what is happening to me though? I- I don't know anymore."

he knew that feeling so well.

"I'm not entirely sure," those words came from his heart. "but I'm willing to help you through it. we can take you to a psychiatrist to know for sure."

"...okay."

Aizawa got up, pushing the glass towards you again, excessive crying often leads to dehydration. and he started doing what his mother would do, he started prepping fruits, in this case it was oranges. he lined them all up on a plate, smiling a little at the thought of waking up from a nightmare as a child and defaulting to devouring blueberries.

he put them in front of you, started speaking as a usual person would, about stupid criminals he had recently put behind bars and crazy super fans that created elaborate photo shopped photos of him and them for social media.

for the first time in a while

the phrase

"are you okay?"

wasn't even mentioned.

for the first time in a while

she felt human.

----------

edit: while writing this I noticed I had a lot of the symptoms, so I went to the doctor and turns out it wasn't just burn out it was severe depression! and asthma apparently...

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

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Dirty Work 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Itcha gurl, back at it again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The doctor checks the chart then glances at the machine with your father’s vitals. Today, you’re father’s awake. He has been for a few days but today he’s alert. You know because he told you the jello was disgusting. Those are the first and only words he’s said to you in more than two weeks.

“You’re very lucky to have a daughter who knows what she’s doing,” Dr. Shearer remarks.

Your father grumbles, scowling as he doesn’t offer much else to the doctor.

“You must be happy to have her around,” Shearer continues, “it is time to start considering your discharge. You’re stable, breathing on your own again, your heartbeat is within a normal range.” You watch your father as he stares past the doctor. It’s as if he refuses to acknowledge that this is real. “You’ll have a few new meds to add to your day but with normal check-ups I think we can be optimistic.”

A grunt. You fold your hands and stand up, “thank you, doctor. Erm, could someone explain the new medicines to me?”

“Yes, of course. That’ll be in the discharge paperwork but I’ll have a Nurse Practitioner come to discuss with both of you,” he assures, “and some resources on quitting. The cigarettes can’t continue.”

“I’ll smoke if I goddamn want,” your dad snarls, breaking his shield of indifference.

The doctor gives him a sharp look but doesn’t argue, “I’m only here to diagnose and give me treatment suggestions. But you keep smoking, sir, and next time, you won’t make it to the hospital.”

“Good,” your dad sneers defiantly.

The doctor nods and his mouth seals grimly. He turns back to you, “let us know if you need anything else. We have some support groups and resources, I’ll make sure that info is also sent off with you.”

“Thanks so much, Doctor,” you squeeze your hands tighter. You want to apologise for your father but you know he’ll only get worse if you do.

“It’s alright,” Shearer says as if reading your mind, “these things are stressful. For everyone. Couple more days and he’ll be free to go.”

You try to smile but your cheeks can only tremble. The doctor leaves you with your father and you peek over at him. He grimaces at the ceiling.

“That’s good news, dad,” you say as you near the foot of his bed.

“Is it? You shoulda left me to die,” he barks.

You flinch, not once, twice. A chirp in your pocket further jars you as it shrilly erupts in the buzzing silence. You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and clutch your flip phone as it bings even louder. The little digital display shows the agency’s number.

“Sorry,” you apologise and flip it open, turning away to scurry out and answer, “hello?”

You hold your breath. Why are they calling? You didn’t have a job today and you only really get emails regarding clients. It must be very serious.

“It’s Clara,” your boss begins in her terse way. “Have you seen my email?”

She sighs, “you should be checking daily. Got a job today. You want it?”

You blink. This is the first time you’ve been asked to come in for an extra shift. You could use the money desperately. When your dad is discharged, he’ll be sent off with another invoice.

“Yes,” you accept without hesitation, “I’ll take it.”

“Great. Check your email. Details are there,” she sniffs.

“Alright, tha-nks,” your voice cracks as she hangs up in the middle of your last word. She must be busy, surely more busy than you, the lowest rung on the ladder she has to keep from falling over.

You close the phone and put it back in your pocket. You shuffle back into the room and find your father with his eyes closed. The machine continues to beep in time with his pulse.

“I gotta work,” you say, “that was my boss–”

“Then leave me alone,” he snaps without opening his eyes, “can’t you see I’m tryna sleep?”

“Sorry, I–”

“Go and don’t come back,” he growls, “I don’t need you crowding this shit hole.”

“Um, dad, I–”

He coughs and hacks and waves you off, swallowing thickly, “I said go.”

You dip your head down. You can’t imagine being in his position. Stuck in a hospital bed on the other side of near-death. You might not be very nice yourself.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I don’t care,” he turns his head and wiggles his shoulders as he tries to get comfortable.

You swallow down the hurt. You didn’t expect him to thank you for what you did. Not for anything. That’s just what you do for someone you love. Yet, you hoped he might have woken up a little bit nicer than before.

“Love you, Dad,” you murmur.

He grumbles. That’s all you get. You suck in a breath and hold it in, trying to keep from crumbling long enough to get out of that room.

🧹

At first, you’re not certain the information in the email is correct. You’re to return to Mr. Laufeyson’s house for the second time that week, but it’s a Friday night. In your days at the hospital, the calendar lines skewed between the alarms you kept in your phone for sanity. The return to reality is just as disjointing as the descent away from it.

You go home and change into your typical cleaning attire. All black. Plain. Clothes meant for getting dirty. Not that any of your wardrobe is particularly spectacular.

You grab your kit and your water bottle and rush out to catch the bus. You’re not used to being on transit near-dark. The prospect of getting home comes to mind as you cling to a pole amidst the crowded vehicle. It makes you nervous but you’re certain it will be okay. Mr. Laufeyson lives in a nice neighbourhood.

You get off the bus and bring your phone out. As you approach the house, it is lively with bodies milling in and out. You let yourself through the gate and peer over at the two cube vans near the front entrance. A white jacket, pristine uniforms, you can only assume they are some sort of catering company. The type you’ve seen on TV in those reality shows with women drinking wine.

You watch them for a moment. They are orderly and determined. What’s more, they work together in perfect harmony, words passing quietly and easily, trays moving smoothly between hands and set onto carts. It’s a shining contrast to your dim and lonely work.

You make yourself turn away and continue around the back of the house. You stop short of the rear corner and a gasp bubbles up. You watch a hummingbird buzzing over the bed of flowers. It’s so small and green and cute. You wince as it flits up towards the window, your cheeks bulbing to the smile as your gaze follows it.

In a moment, it wings away, shyly retreating from your admiration. Your eyes fall to the window as you sense a shift on the other side. Just between the edges of the half-drawn drapes you meet a pair of green eyes over a long and cynical nose. Your smile dissolves as you recognise Mr. Laufeyson and his stony observation. You touch your fingertips to your mouth in self-reproach and tuck your chin down, turning back onto the path.

You go to the back door but it’s already unlocked. You let the handle go and linger outside. You noticed the email is shorter than usual. This isn’t your typical rote with Mr. Laufeyson.

‘Cleaner to be at standby for guests and cook…’

You glance down the paragraph. You’re to stay until after the ‘event’ so that you may tidy up. Your curiosity sparks but quickly fizzles. It’s best not to be too concerned. Just focus on what you need to do.

You let yourself in but forego the shoe covers and gloves as specified in the email. You hang your hoodie in the closet along with your kit. As you hook the strap of your water bottle over your head, a glimmer passes down the end of the hall and the lighting shifts. You look up as Mr. Laufeyson approaches.

He always dresses finely but he looks particularly put together. His hair is tidy and neat and he wears a velvet jacket in a deep shade of violet over a black collared shirt and matching trousers. His tie is narrow and blends into the fabric of his shirt. He keeps his hands behind him as he holds his chin up.

“I trust you understand your assignment,” he prompts as he stops a foot away, cornering you in the back hallway.

You nod. He tilts his head but his veneer does not break.

“Not that,” he points to the water bottle, “you may ask one of the cook’s assistants for a glass should you require it, but be rid of that ugly thing.”

“Oh–” you gulp back your voice and bow your head again.

You untangle the trap from your torso and open the closet, tucking it away with your sweater and bag. You shut the door and find him closer than before, his hand on the door frame as he looms over you. His other wanders down the trim of his jacket.

“You are to keep yourself unseen. You tend to messes and that’s it. The rules remain. Are we understood?” He asks.

You look at him and nod. He sighs and stands straight, a deep breath rising in his chest.

“You may answer aloud so I know we are clear,” he says.

“I understand, Mr. Laufeyson,” you eke out.

“Mmm,” his gaze lingers on you in unreadable consideration. Dressed in plain cotton, you feel wholly insignificant before him. “Go on, you will keep your vigil in the kitchen. They would require most of your assistance.” He backs away and buttons the front of his jacket, “you will not disturb my guests. Not a look, not a word.”

You know your turn to talk is over. You merely nod and he seems pleased by your deference. Not openly, he shows a hint of a smile nor does he praise you. But he is not unhappy and you know that is a feat.

🧹

The cook’s name is Corissa. She has spiraled red hair and pretty gold-green eyes. As you enter, she introduces herself and asks your name.

“I’m just here to clean,” you explain. “So if you need me–”

“Oh, hon, no need ta be shy,” she says in her wolfish voice, “we’re all in this togetha.”

You smile and stand against the wall, waiting to be told what to do next. She gives you a lingering glance but doesn’t comment. You see a question woven in her brow. She begins her work, directing her assistants at saucepan and cutting board alike, all while falling into a raucous rapport.

“Theo say ‘ma, did ya have ta tell that story?’” She cackles midway through a tale you lost track of, her hands moving expertly at her work, “and I say, ‘the gal deserves ta know, ‘specially if ya mean to burden her’.”

You bite into your lower lip. It’s like there’s an invisible wall in front of you. It’s been there your whole life. That one that separates you from others. You’re always on the outside watching. Just like in the schoolyard when the girls wouldn’t let you play with them. Or when your dad has his buddies over and told you to ‘piss off to your room’.

The first course is served on sleek black trays. As you watch the servers carry them out, Corissa calls your name. She makes you lurch in surprise as you’d be convinced you blend right into the plaster.

“Come have a taste,” she insists, “this one’s a bit mussed up.”

“Um, er, it’s okay, I’m not hungry–”

“Bah, come on, have some. I hate ta toss it in the bin.”

You don’t want to argue. That would be rude. So you come forward and accept the crumbly pastry with an ugly tear in the top, the filling bulging out.

“Lobster croquette,” she explains, “you’re not allergic, are ya?”

You shake your head and thank her as you back up to the wall again. You cup your hand under the misshapen ball as you bite into it. You could hum at the taste. It’s delicious and rich and savoury. You’ve never had anything like it. You’ve never even tasted lobster before.

“You like it?” She asks as you swallow your mouthful. You nod. “Quiet one, you.” She points at you.

You don’t answer. What can you say? You are quiet. You finish the croquette and go to dust the crumbs off your hand over the bin. You slide your foot off the pedal and let the lid drop. You take the cloth from your waistband and near the counter, going to work at tidying up the remnants of her work.

“Eh, look at you, busy little bee,” she chuckles, “I was gettin’ ta tha.”

“My job,” you insist.

“Maid,” a snap of the fingers draws your head up as Corissa sprinkles seasoning into a new pan.

Mr. Laufeyson offers only a curled finger. Your eyes round and cross to him, tucking the cloth into your pants again. He’s already striding away as you get to the door. You trail him, uncertain at what he needs.

He leads you to the dining room, the garble of voices and clinking of glasses preceding your arrival. He enters ahead of you and claims the seat at the head of the table. The serves pass you with empty trays and you gape around in confusion.

“Oh my, look at me,” a woman giggles as she uses a cloth napkin to pat along her collarbone. Thin straps cling to her delicate shoulders as her skin glistens beneath the golden chain strung around her throat, “making a scene already.”

You see the wine glass on its side and hear the contents dripping onto the floor. You put your head down and hurry over. The dinner guests laugh and are quickly onto their next topic, about some coast they plan to vacation at once the summer comes. You try not to eavesdrop as you sop up the puddle of wine on the table and get down to wipe clean the floor.

As you do, you feel a tickle on the back of your neck. You don’t let it stop you. It must be an accident. You’re so cramped between the woman’s seat and the next that you must be in the way. The fingertips remain and brush more firmly as you hear a low, gritty exhale.

You ball up the damped cloth and stand, daring a glance at the man as he draws his hand back into his lap. His broad shoulders make the back of the tall chair seem small and his blonde hair is twisted into a low tight bun. He guffaws loudly at the table, seemingly unfazed by his own wandering touch. It must’ve been an accident.

You back up and peer towards the head of the table. Laufeyson’s eyes are slits as he stares in your direction. Surely, he’s not watching you. You’re supposed to be unseen. Get out of there.

You retreat quickly, the din thundering louder and louder at your back, rumbling behind you into the hall. You wring the cloth, now stained and stinking of wine. You hope you didn’t upset Mr. Laufeyson, you only did as you were told.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #maid au #au #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers

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jamesevanwilsonirl · 28 days ago

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James Wilson has an anxiety disorder and I’m going to tell everyone about it.

That was a really long title and pointless. I could have stopped after the first six words.

Anyways, hi, hello, if you don’t know me, my name is James and I really like James Wilson. I also like writing a lot. I also have an anxiety disorder. That led to this amalgamation of headcanons and thoughts about James Wilson.

So, I don’t even know how to start this. Fair warning, I have completely canon divergent headcanons with no canon evidence and just pure projection. I also use commas way too much.

Besides projection, why do I think he has anxiety? Well, I relate to him a lot and lots of his canon social behaviors do reflect my experience as well as others’ experiences with GAD or SAD. I think it goes ignored a lot with Wilson that a lot of his behaviors like people pleasing or having few friends is actually symptom of anxiety. Also, anxiety and depression are often comorbid or associated. In the show, specially that Social Contract episode, it’s SUPER apparent. As someone who headcanons he has both, his “I don’t have to worry around you” monologue to House could be read as a symptom/sign of GAD or ASD. I’m not going to get into my personal social anxieties and such, but I relate to that monologue HEAVILY. Stressing about what you say and having to mask your anxiety around people who don’t understand is a lot. There’s like, two people I can talk to without stressing the fuck out. Back to Wilson, though. His fear of breaking rules is also Anxiety™️ Symptom #1000. He is the most typical man ever on the show, or at least outwardly appears as one. He often fidgets with his hands while he talks and I know that’s because RSL is a stage actor but a guy can dream, alright?

People pleasing. Oh, boy. I could talk about this one for hours. James Wilson loves pleasing people, it doesn’t mean loving people for some but it does for him. He constantly needs to be needed, he always has to be helping, yet he’s never helped. He doesn’t want to speak the things he’s feeling because he feels that means being a burden!! that means being wrong!! that means letting people down!! He likely enjoys being with House so much because he knows it’s impossible to let him down, he doesn’t have to necessarily worry about pleasing him because House is like, very aware of what he’s thinking. House doesn’t give a fuck about what people feel most of the time.

Onto the less canon stuff and just more headcanon and/or projection stuff:

He has obsessive interests he uses to cope, like films. I’m basing that off of his posters and also… myself. This is projection, here.

He cannot do a lot in a short span of time. Worrying takes a lot of his energy and he needs recovery days. He’ll often just sleep for over 12 hours because he had to talk a lot and that means worrying and preplanning everything he was going to say.

He was either late-diagnosed or doesn’t even realize he has anxiety. Yes, he’s a doctor, that sounds odd but let me explain. Men around his age, but also in general, aren’t too open about their mental health struggles. They just think it’s normal. If he was late diagnosed, it was likely when he was seeking out a depression diagnosis. Off topic but can we talk about that for a moment? The show ignored that after the one mention. Season four spoilers ahead so skip to the next bullet point if you’re not there. Here are some filler words so people can scroll. Yadda yadda yadda. HIS GIRLFRIEND DIED!! THAT WOULD FUCK WITH ANYONE BUT ESPECIALLY SOMEONE WITH MDD!! Also, he’s medicated. Medication typically means it was affecting his day to day life. Medication means admitting something wasn’t right and that was likely very hard for him!! Anyways.

His first panic attack scared the living hell out of him. If he was young and still living with his family, he didn’t want to be a burden. He sat in his room sobbing for hours on end because he didn’t understand why his body was doing this. (Chest pain, shaking, not listening to him repeating Calm Down like a mantra, etc.) If he was older, I imagine he likely still didn’t tell anyone but it scared him for a different reason. It meant to him that he was broken. It meant to him that he needed something. He needed help and that scared him.

Intrusive thoughts. I imagine they got worse after S4 finale happened. That’s really it.

Coping? What’s that? He just ignores it.

Once again, breaking rules horrifies him.

That’s all. Goodbye. I do see the possibility of a lot of these being interpreted as ASD but I have a whole other post for that, maybe. Comment any thoughts and feelings. Be nice.

#anxious james wilson #james wilson #house md #building my digital footprint one post at a time #autistic wilson #maybe #Author has GAD #projection #a lot of projection #character analysis #maybe.

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nikibogwater · 6 months ago

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Everybody sit down and strap in, 'cause I have a doozy of a tale to share.

I've had anxiety for literally as long as I can remember. I've had periods of my life where it was so intense it became legitimately life-threatening (don't worry I promise this is going somewhere funny). And this was really bizarre because I have zero childhood trauma. Like, my family life is so idyllic it's almost comical. Therapists would do abuse screenings on me and look utterly baffled when I told them everything was fine at home. They'd interrogate my parents just to make sure I wasn't lying. I have one friend who I'm fairly sure believed I was just severely gaslighting myself when I said my family was great, school wasn't too stressful, and I've never lived in a dangerous neighborhood or experienced poverty.

Anyways, despite no one being able to figure out where my disorder was coming from, my doctors were able to help me manage the symptoms so that I would like, not die, and actually be able to finish high school. Which was awesome. Now fast forward to late 2021. My big sister (who has also had intense anxiety her whole life which no one could figure out why) is finishing up her doctorate and getting her physical therapist's license. Somehow, during all her studying and schooling, she finds out about this thing called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which explains literally everything that was going on with us. EDS is a connective tissue disorder that kinda fudges up your body in a whole bunch of little ways, including dysautonomia (episodes of very fast heart-rate that kick your body into fight-or-flight mode), and hypermobility (unusual flexibility). It's a spectrum disorder, so the severity of symptoms vary from person to person, but we definitely checked almost every box on the diagnostic list. My sister went to see a specialist, and yep, she was diagnosed EDS positive. She immediately calls my mom and goes "I know what's wrong with Niki" (thanks, sis, that's real encouraging lol). Initially we're like "okay Katie, that's nice" because honestly this kind of sounds like jumping at shadows, but I go in to see the specialist anyways just to make sure.

One consultation and diagnosis later, and suddenly my entire life makes perfect sense.

Now we get to the funny part. See, the diagnosis stuff happened in early 2022. So by the time late 2023 comes around and we're looking for a new dog (I promise this is relevant), we've been riding that chronic illness diagnosis for a while. Once again, my sister, ever the proactive one, decides she's going to help us get a new dog. She scours the adoption website, sends us photos of the cutest dogs available, and helps us make a decision. This is how we got Beverly, who has been an unstoppable force of chaos in our lives ever since we signed the papers (but she's also really cute so she can get away with it). Now on top of being a very excitable and anxious pupper, Beverly's got a weird little gimp in her hindquarters, which makes her sit all splayed-out and funny-looking, and while it doesn't seem to be causing her pain, we take her to a vet to get it checked out. Vet finds absolutely nothing. X-rays are taken and examined. Still nothing. At this point, they go "well, we could try a CT scan of her brain, which would run about $5,000, and maybe we could find something--" but my parents are already packing this dog into the car like "well that is a HARD nope." So we decide, look, Beverly seems happy and healthy, and those gimpy legs don't seem to bother her, so we'll just leave it be until it becomes clearer what's wrong with her because we do NOT have a cool $5,000 to throw around here.

Readers more astute than my family and I will likely have already figured out where this is going.

This morning, my mom is looking at Beverly sitting in her funny sprawled-out way, and something in her brain goes "wait...weird physical symptoms with no tracible cause that vets can see..." She does a bit of googling. Can dogs have EDS/Hypermobility? Yes. Yes they can. And the listed symptoms describe Beverly to a T.

So not only is my sister the one to finally figure out what's wrong with me, she also unknowingly got us a dog who has the exact same chronic condition as us. Meanwhile my poor dad, who is the only Normal Person in our house, is coming to terms with the fact that he is apparently just fated to always love chronically ill people and animals, and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.

#storytime with niki #long post #chronic illness #hypermobility #ehlers danlos syndrome

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sunflowersandsapphires · 4 months ago

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Frank Castle caring for a chronically ill partner

a/n: So whatever undiagnosed disability I have has been steadily progressing and is also aggravated by the extreme summer heat where I live. Today, I had my weekly volunteering slot with our local shelter and almost passed out because I overheated so here are some self-indulgent HCs about how Frank would handle a partner with blood pressure or temperature regulation issues. (Warnings: non-graphic mentions of nausea, dealing with chronic illness, almost fainting descriptions)

HCs below the cut!!

Frank is who I immediately thought of when dealing with this because I think he’d be so comforting in a kind of alarming situation. (Until I was an adult, I’ve never passed out or even come close so it always takes me by surprise.)

Frank is so calm in every emergency situation because of his experiences and military training, and he’d be ready to go.

If this is something you don’t deal with often and Frank isn’t constantly looking for signs that you aren’t well, I think he’d freak out the first time it happens with him. Like IMMEDIATE trip to the ER, demanding the doctors run all the tests, desperate for some answer for why his girl isn’t feeling her best.

But after the first time? He’s a PRO. He knows as much as possible about whatever condition you may or may not have been diagnosed with. Like this man was taking notes, ok? He knows what foods you should be eating, how much you need to drink, medications he should have on hand, what things can cause a flare up, and how to help when one happens.

If you find yourself on the brink of passing out, sort of blinking slowly and trying to decide if your nauseous or overwhelmed, one look at Frank and he’d know something was up. He’d be at your side in a second, gently cupping the back of your head with one hand while supporting your torso with the other.

“Feelin’ off, doll? Let’s get ya sittin’ down. Take a breather.”

Gently leading you to the couch (or picking you up if you stumbled), he’d make sure you were lying down on the softest pillow, feet elevated of course, before grabbing any supplies.

He’d dampen a cloth with cool water, grab a sports drink or something with electrolytes, maybe even a snack if he thought it could help.

“Here, sweetheart, sit up for me? Attagirl. Let’s get you cooled down.”

Draping the cloth over your neck, he’d kneel in front of you, holding a drink to your lips (complete with neon bendy straw) and softly praising you as the blood comes back to your head.

You’d be off your feet for the rest of the day, no point in trying to argue. If you tried to do something as simple as the dishes, you’d be scooped into a bridal carry and carefully dropped back on the couch.

“Don’t start with me, doll. Ain’t nothin’ you need to do but rest. Lemme handle it.”

You might not feel your best, but you’d be damned if Frank didn’t make it better.

#frank castle #the punisher #fc #marvel #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle headcanons #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #the punisher imagine #the punisher x reader #jon bernthal #caring Frank my beloved #my writing

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calware · 4 months ago

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post about me. i added pictures to keep it interesting

i've had a problem for most of my life that i'm currently visualizing as a gray dorito poking into me. it's frustrating, inconvenient, difficult to deal with, and overall makes everything suck a little. many people have told me that this problem is most likely adhd, such as my therapist in high school who said it was "textbook." unfortunately, she was just a therapist, not a psychiatrist, and therefore wasn't actually qualified to diagnose me with anything. this was in 2021 when there were no child psychiatrists in my area accepting new patients (thanks, covid), so instead my doctor gave me a few adhd meds at differing doses to see if any of them stuck (i had literally no reaction to Any of them) and the whole thing went nowhere

so, is the problem actually adhd? i'm an adult now and could pay several hundred dollars (of my parent's money) to get a proper test, but it would make no difference as my issues would not be solved by adhd medication (maybe. i'm worried i somehow messed it up) or any form of accommodations. i don't want to ask my parents to pay for something that likely won't have much impact (and my mom wouldn't be fully convinced anyway. both parents are pretty sure there's nothing wrong with me). i want to know, but the time and money don't justify it. so the best solution i have is to keep going, keep learning which lifestyle changes to make and how to "work smarter". i'll be okay. and i say that with sincerity

whoops, forgot my glasses here. this is another gray dorito-shaped problem, only this one is much smaller. i rarely notice it, and when i do, it's superficial. it's only gotten genuinely bad twice in my life. it's my paranoia, obsessiveness, and, on occasion, compulsions that follow those obsessions. now, i know what you're thinking, which is that it kind of sounds like Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. frankly, from my understanding, my issue is so negligible that it doesn't qualify as OCD. like i said, it barely affects me. it still bothers me that it's there, though. i do my best to deal with it, letting my thoughts pass as they come to me and not trying not to give into/breaking out of compulsions, but i just don't want it there at all

this is another thing i could see a therapist about, but does a problem this small really justify the time and expenses of seeing a professional? not in my case (not for me, at least. don't apply this to your own problems if you genuinely want to seek professional help)

i have a goal to have enough disposable income later in life to justify paying a scientist to pick through my brain for my own amusement. because, despite no substantial foreseeable improvements to my mental health after getting a psych evaluation, i still find the idea to be really exciting. i have a strong desire to understand how my mind works, how my brain ticks, why i am the person i am. that's how i know that if i ever played sburb, id have the heart aspect (that's right. you thought that this was just a personal post on my homestuck blog that had nothing to do with homestuck. do you really think i would do that? make off-topic posts solely about me on a homestuck blog? look, i even remembered to draw my glasses this time and i made them homestuck glasses. because i care about you guys) and i am vain and self-centered enough to desperately want someone with a phd to talk about me for an hour. and no, i don't need a therapist to tell me why that is, i already figured that one out allllll on my own

#long post

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matan4il · 2 years ago

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Buddie 614 meta

What I find to be the loudest about Eddie’s arc here is that the whole ep is meant to show us everything that can go wrong when people try to live up to others’ expectations, and how much better it is when people are looking in and figuring out what’s right for them, which means they’re performing for and as themselves. That’s the context for Eddie’s date and story. He needs to figure out how to want a romantic relationship again without feeling like it’s a task he’s performing just to please others. That’s the place he gets to at the end of the ep, which is a good place for him to be. ~~

And this is essential to Eddie. Based on how little people talk about it, maybe many in fandom aren’t aware of how 911 implied back in 217 that he only married Shannon because she got pregnant. Eddie said explicitly he didn’t think he was ready to get married at the time, and he brought this up in the context of Shannon and him having Christopher. So I think it’s very meaningful that here, when his aunt wants to set him up, he jumps straight to the (wrong) conclusion that he’s expected to marry Vanessa. He was under this pressure to perform for others before, he knows how disastrous it can turn out, and you know what? Trauma totally triggers this kind of reaction. It tells us where he’s at emotionally, that there are still things he has to deal with. ~~

Speaking of trauma, another symptom of it can be denial, and we do see a bit of it from Eddie during this ep. Remember how he claimed he doesn’t panic back in 501? Right to a doctor’s face while she’s diagnosing him with panic attacks? He did it again in this ep. The thing is that healing isn’t linear. He was advancing with some things, but in 614, faced with his aunt’s ambush, he feels cornered back into a place he’s been in before, a place that left its scars on him, and Eddie regresses. Which is okay! But that’s one step back in order to take two steps forward. Before the ep ends, he will figure out that it’s better not closing himself off completely to the idea of getting into another relationship, even if Tia Pepa’s surprise blind dates are not the way to go about it. ~~

As a side note, I loved Bobby basically trying to trick his subordinates into giving him a review, and poor Buck stepping right into that one. I saw it coming and I almost choked laughing. This show is damn brilliant with comedy, too. We don’t give it enough credit for that! But it's also a moment when I was really proud of Buck. If Eddie's panic caused him to take a step back, we got to see his husband, who grew up so unloved that he needs every bit of approval he can get, being mature and able to point it out when Bobby was over-praising him in his evaluation. And you know what's more? Bobby knew it would go like this. He has seen Buck's growth and he knew his surrogate son would do the right thing and correct this. Bobby's set up wouldn't have worked otherwise. Excuse me while I get emotional over this. ~~

Fitting for an ep where 911 flexed its comical muscles, it was embarrassing how hard I laughed at Buck’s reaction to Eddie’s romantic woes. Remember when Buck heavily implied how hurtful it was to be ghosted by Abby, saying in 502 that he had been in Ana’s position, of being unwanted and led on instead of getting a clean break up? Well, look at how quick Buck was to suggest ghosting as a viable option for Eddie this time! It’s almost like Buck doesn’t even notice that he will offer whatever it takes to keep his husband away from these potential Love Interests, even if it contradicts stuff he has said in the past himself. The way Buck could be so calm making this suggestion, and take the “threat” in stride, because duh, he knows his husband wouldn’t want these LIs intruding on their marriage and family either, and it’s absolutely legit to just ghost this girl if she doesn’t get the memo, was hilarious. And honestly, who can blame Buck? He’s defending his hot man. ;p ~~

Which brings me to my weekly gif set, that I dedicated this time to Buck pointing out on Eddie’s failure to let Ana down easy. I mean, it already IS canon that these two talk about everything, it IS canon that Buck is someone who gets to hear all about Eddie’s romantic woes. But this proves that Eddie doesn’t just fill him in using broad strokes, stuff like just letting Buck know that he indeed broke up with Ana. No, they get down to the finer resolution as well, and Buck gets to hear every detail about how Eddie did it with the delicacy of a bull in a china shop. And clearly, Buck wasn’t about respecting either Ana or Eddie’s pain during that break up, at least not enough to stop Buck from teasing his husband about it. XD It’s so funny how naturally Buck’s staking his claim on his husband even while they’re discussing going on dates. I see you, Buck, and am totally with you! ~~

One last “made me laugh” point. I’m tempted to snicker about Pepa telling Eddie he should be shopping for antiques. I’m queer, so please excuse my dumb queer humor, but ummm. That’s not a very straight suggestion for your nephew, Tia. Or maybe that’s deliberate, maybe it’s implied she is trying to set up Eddie with anyone, girls or guys? After all, she did use gender neutral language during this ep... So we can’t know for sure, but something tells me Pepa just wants Eddie to officially have someone, and if she learns that Buck actually IS her nephew’s other half? (I can’t call either of these morons ‘better half’, sorry) Then she’d be the first one to throw them a party! And I love that, and I love her. Because after all, she’s not just a sassy queen, she’s not just incredibly loving and caring with her nephew, she was also willing to sacrifice her own image in his eyes, she was willing to be seen as herself, and not as what he expects, in order to help remind him that even if his first marriage failed miserably, he can find the courage, move on and re-commit himself to someone else. And soon maybe Eddie will realize and Pepa will find out who is that someone else that Eddie can have a beautiful committed r/s with...

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~~ Thank you so much for reading and for any reblog, like, comment or supportive tag! I really couldn't keep doing these without knowing people want to see them. Also, my eternal gratitude as always to @whosoldherout. I'm always in awe of your giffing!

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