#but I did some thinking. sure it could be one of my other untreated Problems buuuut

[oleanderspride]

I probably have BPD but I’m in my last year of high school so idrc about that rn

[kourabiedes]

I'm not here to grind a political or social axe. I'm just here to tell a short story, about a normal person trying to navigate the American medical establishment. Here is some evidence. You may draw your own conclusions.

So I've had a migraine for a month.

That's not hyperbole, mind. It has been a month since this started. A month of the entire side of my head pulsing with pain, worse whenever I look at light which is always because I do digital art and all that.

Now, I've had migraines all my damn life. I know the drill. I have a preventative medicine that keeps me from having more than one a month or so, and I have a "rescue" medicine meant to stop the ones that do start. I have a nice dark room to rest in when it starts, I have blindfolds, I have ice packs -- I know how to handle these, is the point. So, for about the first two weeks, I did just that. I hit this sucker with everything that worked before and did my best to wait it out. Yes, I delayed getting care, because it was a problem I was already familiar with and assumed was normal for me.

Then, a week ago, it stopped responding to my rescue medication. Entirely stopped. Alarmed, I went to the ER. They hit me with a fairly standard migraine cocktail (so they said anyway -- don't ask me what it was because I honestly do not remember). Killed the pain almost right away and they give me some advice about what to do next and sent me home.

It was back in sixteen hours.

ER again. Same cocktail, same result. I'm freaked out now, so I call my PCP and schedule an appointment. She fits me into her schedule because she's alarmed too. She gives me a shot of Toradol and that helps, but she notices my blood pressure is reading a little elevated for me and we decide to try a blood pressure medication. Okay, cool, I'm down, high blood pressure runs in the family and it can definitely give you migraines if untreated. We start this medicine and she prescribes me a new rescue medication, giving me one pill to try while waiting for insurance to okay the prescription. This rescue medicine works, putting me back in control of the pain. Cool, thinks I, I just have to get through a couple weeks while the blood pressure medicine settles in, and if we're right, the migraine will finally let go.

Today, I discover that insurance would only okay ten pills of this medicine, because I have had the other rescue medication refilled recently for... obvious reasons. Ten pills, and if I want more, I have to wait like forty days or something.

Do you know how many of these pills I have to take a day to keep the migraine at bay? Two.

I have five days of relief -- four, now -- before I go right back to the same ER level pain, unless I am exceedingly lucky with this blood pressure medicine.

The ER did no imaging. I'm not sure if they even could. My PCP put in an order for an MRI when I saw her, which was a week ago, and that request has not yet left the insurance company.

A migraine is not just a headache, like you get after overindulging or staying up too late. A migraine alters your mental state. It can come with physical symptoms beyond head pain -- mine likes to manifest itself with dark spots in my vision, for example, which can ruin a day real fast -- and sometimes they even come with nasty mental symptoms.

So... what part of all that upsets you the most? Because, for me, it's knowing I have about four days before I go right back to screaming misery.

Oh, and I have to note, I am considered fairly lucky because the state covers my ass when Medicare won't. Yet here we are all the same.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for watching a movie as a family without including my dad? Writing it out, I think I know the answer, but this has still been bugging me.

Around Thanksgiving I (30s) visited home. It was also a trip to see for my mom (late 60s) for her birthday, so I was there for a few days longer than a Thanksgiving trip would normally account for. My brother (30s) and his wife (30s) visited for her birthday too. My dad (early 70s) was there as well. They've been married over 30 years. Originally I'd planned to take everybody out to see a movie as a birthday present for my mom...but it turned out there was literally nothing at the theater that my mom was interested in at all. The town is pretty small, and the options were limited. So instead, we started out with a nice dinner, and family board game run-through of a trivia game we all thought we'd have some fun with. My mom ended up winning, which is rare and was not deliberate, and it wrapped the game up way faster than we'd anticipated.

My dad immediately went back into the living room after the game ended, openly a little annoyed that mom had won a trivia game based on something he considers himself the family expert in. He watches old reruns of the show he's seen a million times on a loop every day, and it can be pulling teeth to get him to do anything else. It was just a fluke, but something the rest of us considered a pleasant surprise since none of us had expected she'd win. But he was annoyed. Given that it was still early, Mom suggested we find a movie to watch online, so we could all wind down before bed with something the whole family could enjoy.

Dad said no. Now this feels like important context: I...have a lot of problems with my dad. I love him, but he can be extremely emotionally immature. Downright verbally abusive at times. And very petty. I'm in therapy in no small part due to some of the insecurities he instilled in me over the years. I've worked hard to set basic boundaries with him. He also has multiple medical issues, and I'm pretty sure he has untreated depression and other mental health problems he refuses to acknowledge that contribute to him flying off the handle at a moment's notice. That, combined with the fact that my mom will 100% never, ever leave him, because she was raised in a very specific mindset that she's never been fully able to shake...means my brother and I usually have to grit our teeth when he starts ranting/yelling/complaining during a visit, or we'd just end up ruining the day for our mom. She's done so much for us, and we just wanted her to have a good visit. So, that's what I did for most of the trip. I breathed deep when my dad openly mocked my stutter, and refused to get in a fight about it. I stopped myself from getting visibly upset when he tried to feed my cat table scraps even when I told him the cat needs a special diet. On other days I tried to watch his old shows with him, and ignored the sexist comments he'd make about the female leads, all for the sake of keeping the peace.

But, it was Mom's birthday. And she wanted to watch a movie.

And Dad said no.

He refused to give up his marathon of old westerns from 60 years ago to watch a new movie with his family on the big tv in the living room.

My mom seemed disappointed, so I suggested we watch one on my laptop in the kitchen instead. Without my dad, if he really wanted to watch his show instead. She agreed, and my brother, his wife, my mom and I filed into the kitchen, sat in less-than-comfy chairs, and watched a fantasy heist film that I'd thought they would all enjoy. And they did. My brother was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the movie (I'd already vouched for it being good, none of the others had seen it previously) His wife kept making notes for her dnd campaign. My mom found it hilarious, and liked that some actors from another show she liked were in it.

My dad stayed in the living room, watching his marathon.

Partway through the movie, he came in and asked us what we were watching. We told him, and he passed through the kitchen for something he needed, then said that we were being too loud. More context: the kitchen is right next to the living room, but my dad turns the tv up so loud in there it can get physically painful to be in the room with him. He refuses to get hearing aides, and only recently relented on subtitles. He also has a habit of screaming at anyone who tries to talk for a long time when his shows are on and they're in earshot, even if they're in a different room. We thought he couldn't hear it over his tv, and so when he said something we said sorry and that we'd try to keep it down, but we could already barely hear it through the laptop speakers. We already had subtitles turned on to make sure we didn't miss anything. When we told him that, he got even more annoyed. He asked how we'd like it if he turned the tv up so loud we couldn't understand anything, then proceeded to go into the living room and do just that, just as I was trying to figure out how much more we could lower the volume without losing our whole experience. We called in that we were already turning it down, and he finally turned his volume back down as well. We finished our movie, turning the volume down during action scenes and up during speaking scenes so we could actually hear the dialog. We enjoyed the rest of the film, and then people started getting ready for bed, and my mom went to check on my dad. She told me a few minutes later that he was hurt that we'd watched the movie without him. That he felt left out. I told her that he'd had multiple opportunities to join us, and that is was his choice not to watch with us. And honestly, the fact that he wouldn't give up the real tv for a couple hours so she could have a birthday movie was really upsetting to me.

She still seemed to feel bad that he was left out, and I'm a little worried that he might've sulked for days afterwards, leaving my mom in an even more stressful environment after I left. Am I the asshole for insisting my mom get to watch a movie on her birthday? And would I be the asshole if I told my dad off for what I consider to be extremely selfish behavior?

Also before anyone asks, no, I'm not cutting him off. It's literally impossible to do that without pretty much cutting off my mom as well, and she absolutely doesn't deserve that. And yes, I've offered up my apartment as a place she can stay if she ever needs to. Repeatedly. She hasn't taken me up on it yet.

What are these acronyms?

[topazadine]

A Primer on Dyscalculia: The Learning Disorder You Weren't Told About in School

I rarely see people discussing this learning disability, to the point that many believe it doesn't exist (ie, saying math is the universal language and everyone understands it but just doesn't try) so I thought I'd explain a bit about what it is.

Dyscalculia is a learning disability characterized by difficulty with math, numbers, and some systematic learning that requires the use of memorization and application. Like its relative, dyslexia, it is not that someone is "stupid" or "not trying hard enough" to learn math; our brains are essentially wired not to absorb information in this form.

Common symptoms of dyscalculia include:

Inability to do basic math problems

Struggling to count, often using their fingers to count

Difficulty using multiplication and division

Challenges with visualizing heights, lengths, and widths

Difficulty counting change

Struggling to read a clock or divide time into reasonable measurements

Challenges with memorizing numbers, dates, and sequences

No one is actually sure how many people have dyscalculia because it is rarely diagnosed. Right now, estimates are around 3% to 7% of the population, but this is likely a vast underrepresentation.

Educators still believe the myth that everyone can do math and that those who say they can't are just refusing to apply themselves. This causes lifelong problems for dyscalculiacs because if not treated early enough, it is nigh-on untreatable.

Many people with dyscalculia may complete math problems in unusual and time consuming ways. For example, if you asked me to divide 145 by 5 without a calculator, this is how my brain would have to do it:

100 by 5 (20)

20 by 5 (4), then multiply this by 2 (8), then divide 5 by 5 (1)

And finally, add up all the results (20+8+1) to get 29.

Numbers that are not easily divisible or "chunked" like this would be nigh-on impossible for me to do in my head. I wasn't able to memorize the times tables and in fact needed a laminated times table well into elementary school (think 5th grade).

I distinctly remember feeling like everyone else was on the helm of the USS Enterprise when they could so easily shout out answers to simple multiplication or division problems, and I was always the last person to do those stupid times table sheets. Sometimes I couldn't even complete half of it by the time everyone else was done.

I failed 3rd grade math class and had to be assigned a tutor. This was despite getting all As in every single other class. In fact, I failed multiple math classes during my academic career.

Since my grades were so high in other classes, I had to petition to be put in a remedial math class. Everyone assumed that because I did well in things like English, science, civics, and so on, I must have been able to do what my peers could.

A college-level physics class was the hardest class I have ever done in my life, and I have a Master's degree in International Relations, which requires a lot of very dry and complicated political theory. That is the A I am most proud of because it required far more effort than anything before or since.

No one told me what dyscalculia was or identified a problem throughout my entire time in education. I had to seek out resources myself in adulthood before finally learning what my problem was. This, of course, led to significant "math fear" and self-esteem issues, especially in a society that is obsessed with STEM.

This learning disability can have far-reaching effects and impact things that other people may not even consider. There are many connections between systematized learning and math.

Dyscalculiacs may also have trouble with:

Learning languages

Playing musical instruments (because sheet music and tempos are a form of language + math, though it is possible to learn by ear)

Reading maps, including general world geography

Estimating distances

Navigating a new place because they can't make "mental maps"

Dancing (due to the sequencing)

Reading diagrams

Remembering step-by-step instructions without a cheat sheet

Completing complex tasks that have a lot of steps

Starting a project that necessitates doing things in a certain order, such as building something

Cooking or baking (because it requires measuring and matching measurements to specific ingredients)

Repeating sequences, like a phone number

Remembering numbered streets or highways (like I-480, 5th street, or etc)

Playing games that require counting or keeping score, like Yahtzee, card games, and so on

Completing spreadsheets with numbers

Of course, not every dyscalculiac will struggle with all of these things because there are different degrees of severity. Many also learn tactics to compensate. For example, I never learned sheet music but did well in choir because I memorized all the songs entirely by ear.

I have developed visualizations of common routes I travel and can navigate to them by remembering the landmarks I pass. If you tried to ask me specific step-by-step directions of anywhere, I couldn't tell you, but I can tell you that you'll pass a KFC on your right if you're going east (parallel to Lake Erie), and then you will turn left at the big shopping center.

There are plenty of adaptations that everyday people use which are lifelines to dyscalculiacs in ways that other people may never recognize. Formulas on spreadsheets, conversion websites, built-in calculators, and turn-by-turn navigation apps are all examples of accommodations that appeal to everyone but are especially important to dyscalculiacs.

So, the next time you scoff and say "everyone can do math, they're just being lazy" or "cooking is easy" or "anyone can learn a second language if they want to" or "using a calculator is cheating" and so on:

Recognize that you are ignoring a very real learning disability. These statements are ableist.

Such rhetoric is equally damaging as anti-dyslexic statements like "everyone can learn to read," "open dyslexic fonts are ugly," "audiobooks are cheating," "video lessons are lazy" and things of that ilk.

Ableism takes many forms, many of which people refuse to recognize. Difficulty with math is a widespread problem, and it often has nothing to do with trying hard enough or refusing to learn. I remember breaking down in tears trying to do my times table; I would spend hours trying to understand them.

These issues are NOT a lack of willpower or application. They have to do with real neurological deficits. Please be kind to those who can't do math, and stop assuming we're lazy.

[thebibliosphere]

I know you aren’t a doctor, but is there anything else that, to your knowledge, tends to get diagnosed by alt-doctors as CIRS?

So this is probably going to piss some people off, but I genuinely believe that CIRS (which as I've talked about before as being... questionable as a diagnosis) is more likely to be a mast cell disorder.

The science and reasoning around CIRS and the obsession with "toxins" and mold is just too vague, and I say that as someone who was at one point diagnosed as CIRS and went through the whole process only to be met with HEAVY resistance from my alt doctors when I wanted to know WHY something was "toxic" and why I wasn't improving despite doing what they recommended.

They couldn't explain it. Thing Just Bad. And if I wasn't improving, it was my fault for not removing enough "toxins" from my environment.

Well, turns out some of those things weren't universally "toxic," I just have an immune disorder (MCAS) that makes them toxic to me, where my body thinks harmless things are a threat-- including my own hormonal cycle!

There was mold killing me, though, that was indeed making my mast cells unstable and sending me into anaphylaxis on a regular basis and causing all kinds of neurological problems. Mast cell stabilizers and removing the mold from my home did more good for me than any of the CIRS treatments.

(Important note: not everyone with MCAS experiences anaphylaxis as a symptom, and it is not a requisite of diagnosis.)

MCAS is not the only form of mast cell dysfunction either. There's also mastocytosis and Hereditary Alpha tryptasemia. You can read more about them at The Mast Cell Disease Society. (There are also different types of MCAS for anyone interested.)

Other things I've seen alt-doctors misdiagnose as CIRS over the years include:

Dysautonimia (high rates of comorbidity with MCAS)

Fibromyalgia (some recent research suggests that mast cells play a role in the onset of fibromyalgia)

ME/CFS (chronic fatigue syndrome)

ADHD

Autism

Celiac Disease

Multiple Chemical Sensitivity Disorder (which I also think is mast cell related, tbh.)

Pernicious Anemia (the other thing that was killing, because my untreated MCAS was stopping me from absorbing nutrients from my food)

Chronic migraines.

SIBO (which can lead to secondary MCAS)

Various different mood disorders

Interstitial Cystitis (also a common symptom of various mast cell disorders)

And I'm sure a couple more I'm just forgetting right now.

Basically, there are a lot of things CIRS could actually turn out to be. But my money is on some form of mast cell fuckery.

[wirewitchviolet]

I am so sick of poverty.

I am doubled over right now in my broken chair layering my clothes up because it's 20 degrees out and I can't afford heat. I haven't eaten anything tonight because I can't afford food. Things could be worse. I still have electricity. I still have a roof over my head, for now, in a bad neighborhood where I'm too terrified to ever set foot outside and I'm constantly having to deal with screaming, car alarms, and sirens. I have no real way of paying my rent, and haven't in some time. I just keep begging and getting one-off help from people and eventually that luck is going to run out. I genuinely did not expect to still be alive this month, I don't know if I'm going to be a month from now, and I genuinely cannot picture anything that can change my situation.

I'm just sitting here right now thinking to myself, "why is my life like this?" and I really hate how the answer really just is that I'm trans.

If you don't know what that means, and statistically you don't, that means I was born with a really quite boring fluke medical thing where my endocrine system makes certain chemicals in the wrong ratio which, if untreated, completely messes me up with really gross and disgusting physical symptoms and causing all sorts of awful brain issues that make it basically impossible to live... BUT, there's really cheap readily available supplements to get those where they should be and then you're fine. So in a halfway reasonable world, this would just be like how some people need glasses or a hearing aid or any other sort of medication people might need to take for something.

But, we don't. We live in this super messed up world where because being trans is such a rare and uninteresting thing, a tiny handful of weirdos, for reasons beyond my comprehension, have this all-consuming obsession with doing everything in their power to harm trans people, and have spent literally their entire lifetimes spreading utterly bonkers propaganda, lobbying lawmakers, getting onto medical boards, and just acting as traditional good old fashioned stalkers, with the net result being this swirling miasma of false information, stigmatization, mistrust, and of course, depriving people of necessary medical treatment.

One of the nastier specific effects there is that you can't just get the aforementioned medications you need to live a normal boring life as a trans person. There is this whole wild and wacky hazing ritual built into international medical standards where you're literally required to humiliate yourself in public for a good year and make damn sure everyone around you knows you're trans, and can properly make your life hell for it.

So back to my little story here. I'm trans, I decided I would in fact like to have some sort of bearable life with a functioning brain and a minimum of weird gross physical problems, and had to announce this to the world. IMMEDIATELY, I have stalkers out the wazoo. I'm getting death threats. Family isn't speaking to me. Friends aren't speaking to me. People I've worked with/for my whole life cut all ties with me. I just had to sort of start life over from nothing well into adulthood.

And you know, I managed that. I've worked as a journalist and a game designer my whole life, those skills aren't the worst for working on your own, things were starting to get off the ground. This despite/because the whole thing with neo-nazis coming out of the woodwork and attacking trans people both with life-ruining tactics and, you know, guns. But, you know, as fate would have it, some people who don't do proper research put too much stock in some cover stories suggesting that they're actually targeting journalists, and when it shakes out to the contrary, decide to absolutely crush the trans people whose lives are actually in danger and are reporting on this... while at the same time the worst TERF in America is literally getting trans journalists blacklisted, stalking people, teaming up with neo-nazis, all that good stuff.

Anyway, as it happens, basically all the people I've met in rebuilding my life care enough about staying on the good sides of some of the above people, and are all too happy to completely throw me under the bus, not only cutting all ties with me but also starting some horrible rumors and leaking my closely guarded personal details to some particularly frightening people, forcing me to flee my home with just what I can carry out in a day... multiple times. And of course, again, I've lost more or less all of my friends, my ability to find work, and I have the setbacks of sudden homelessness and someone skipping out on a joint charity project with all the donations people had made, burning down all the vital operating resources to boot.

And this of course is all before the whole bit where the site formally known as Twitter spontaneously kicked me off with no chance to exchange alternate contact info with anyone, because wouldn't you know it, the new owner has an irrational hatred of trans people and has neo-nazi stalkers of mine kissing up to him in a way he's weirdly protective of.

But wait, there's more! All these fascist stalkers monitor me at all times to make sure I can't get any work of any kind, and I'm forced to live purely off direct patreon donations and government programs. But that gets into some other fun problems. Stalking comes with identity theft, evading would-be murderers involves changes of legal name and address. These confuse a lot of government databases, so I lack a valid social security card in there somewhere. Also causes problems with paypal. And with medcab programs. And then there's good old fashioned medical discrimination. I haven't seen a dentist in years because the last couple I've been referred to outright discriminate against trans patients. I need some surgery performed, and my health plan keeps telling me I can only see surgeons who have almost no experience if I'm lucky, and a history of horribly botched procedures otherwise.

Oh, and the reason I have no food? I WAS on an assistance program, but in the yearly audit, someone noticed that my rent significantly exceeds my income. You would hope seeing that they'd realize I'm REALLY in trouble and if anything give me more money, but hey, one of those weird bits of propaganda about trans people is that we're all sex workers, so the people handling this case leaned into that bias and are insisting I must be withholding income information with some vague insinuations on what they're speculating, and denying me access to food, BECAUSE I'm losing access to shelter.

So yeah, if people could just be normal about trans people, I'd have no stalkers, still be able to work, see doctors when I need to, and if I had shortfalls still, at least be able to eat. As is... yeah I might just die in the next big cold snap while I try to beg money off people to cover my rent and buy a few cans of soup.

Sorry to be a downer. Patreon link if you want to try to help.

[idiacide]

could you elaborate on further on floyd's part? I'm pretty sure everyone in twst has issues but I always thought that Floyd was more on the stable side in comparison to the rest, so it made me curious about what his possible issues are (i have a vague idea for jade's something something about control and the need to be in it.) But like only if your comfortable! Btw can I be curious anon? Thanks!

See now you’ve gone and done it, you’ve enabled me to talk at length about my boy. You probably were NOT asking for a 5k word analysis of Floyd (including a line reading of his vignettes). But apparently that’s what my brain decides to churn out. So without further ado

Shark Dissection: A Floyd Leech Analysis Essay

Some brief disclaimers: I actually do agree with you that overall Floyd is one of the more stable boys here. I don’t think he’s walking around with some great well of untreated sadness and neglect. Like many people, he’s simply got some issues rattling around his brain that have gone kind of unaddressed and unprioritized, and the longer they go without comment the more likely they are to cause problems that seem inexplicable. Additionally, there’s admittedly some level of self-projection occurring here. In terms of behavior, I’m not much like Floyd. But the way his brain works makes sense to me, feels familiar. In a way, he takes a lot of the impulses and feelings I have and acts on them in a way I wouldn’t have the nerve to irl. This also means that I see a lot of myself in the way that he handles his own internal state.

I have ADHD. Floyd, while not canonically diagnosed, has a lot of behavioral overlap with typical ADHD diagnostic criteria. Part of that package is emotional dysregulation. The ADHD brain isn’t particularly good at regulating anything, and that includes feelings. My entire life I’ve had this thing where if you ever asked me how I was feeling, I honestly couldn’t tell you. I might even get irritated with you for asking. How am I supposed to know what I’m feeling, or why? I just know I’m going through it, and its not gonna stop until I can either distract myself or someone comes along to lift it. I have to figure out what I’m experiencing after the fact, rather than just basically be able to understand the cause and effect of my own brain chemistry. Floyd’s frequent mood swings and “irrationality” track a lot with stuff that I’ve been going through my whole life, and unlike me I don’t think Floyd has the language or the desire to fully understand why he is the way that he is. This combines with some elements I see in his past to create some issues with developing consistent relationship attachments that he hasn’t acquired by virtue of biology or proximity.

All this to say: I don’t consider my reading of Floyd the end all be all. I’m too bound up in it to say that I’m being objective. But I do think there’s a lot of textual evidence for the things that I do see in him, so take that for what you will. So let’s get into it.

It all starts from Jade and Floyd’s way of relating to other people. More specifically: they kinda don’t? The twins have a habit of seeing other people as more tools for their own entertainment than actual people deserving of notice. I’d argue a lot of this stems from their childhood, based on some things Jade says in his birthday card:

Could you tell us a memory you have about your birthday?

A memory....Oh, yes. I’ll share a story from my childhood.

It wasn’t just our relatives that would come over for our birthday every year-but associates from our father’s work as well.

And they gave us a mountain of presents.

What kind of things did you get?

All sorts of things: sweets, seaweed eye masks, and strange toys one could only acquire on land.

However, among those things were luxury substances clearly no child would need.

It seems those presents were from desperate people trying to gain our father’s favor...er, rather his trust.

Our father always made sure anyone who sent us those deeply meaningful gifts also left their signatures...

On a document which read, “This gift was given to you out of good faith, and we will not request anything in return for it.”

Even our father had a tendency to worry at times, just like our mother.

Well, they do say that married couples take after each other...It’s good that they get along well.

...Just what kind of household do you two come from?...

Heheh, this is simply a family-run line of work. We do all sorts of meaningless business with all kinds of people...Its very normal.

I’d argue we see two things at play here. One, a family tendency to toy with people, particularly desperate people. Jade is recounting this all with a clear sense of amusement, like it’s an old in-joke. More than that, his father seems to be toying with his “associates” through his sons birthday, making them sign documents assuring that its an honest gift when they all know the actual purpose. Two: Jade and Floyd serving as spectators to larger actions. Jade doesn’t even remember their birthday as being strictly “about” them. Rather it was an event through which they got to participate in the family business and get a little more insight into their father’s dealings. Again, his amusement here is important. For many kids I think there’d be a sense of hurt feelings, or concern, or even pride. But for Jade (and one has to assume, Floyd) this is simply another entertaining circumstance of his life.

I’d argue this stemmed from the home outward, resulting in the twins not being particularly encouraged to see other people as. Well. People. Rather, they approach them like they’re game pieces. This isn’t necessarily malicious. In Azul’s case, what drew them in to Azul was the contradiction between his crybaby nature and his ambitious talent for magic and exploiting others. They thought he would be fun to watch, and so they did, eventually developing a friendship with each other that seems to feature at least some level of trust. However, it definitely showcases this tendency to be driven by curiosity before empathy.

This continues at NRC. Jade and Floyd definitely have amicable relationships, and yet there aren’t truly a lot of people that they trust outside of each other. Floyd ESPECIALLY demonstrates this. He uses playful nicknames, both as a way of telling people apart and a way of subtly putting them down. He picks his favorite targets for bullying and teasing based on who will give him the biggest reaction, and lets his whims dictate how much he wants to engage with any given activity. He won’t put himself out of the way for pretty much anyone but Jade or Azul. There’s no one else in his life for whom friendship trumps his own convenience and entertainment, at least not consistently.

There’s a side effect to all of this though: when you see people as playthings, it’s hard to feel like you can actually trust them with your own emotions. This seems to bother Jade less. Jade doesn’t seem to deal with particularly strong emotions, even playing into the fact that he doesn’t have any around his brother. And as Bean Day demonstrates, he is perfectly capable of having friendly and amicable relationships with other people when he feels so inclined. Jade may sometimes put people off, but you get the sense that if he ever wanted to reach out he would be able to find someone to listen.

Floyd is different. Floyd has emotions which are frequently large and uncontrollable. More than that, he really doesn’t seem to have anywhere to take those emotions when they strike. His entire life, whether by nature or nurture, he’s taught himself that the only people he really needs to care about are his brother (and Azul), who as previously stated doesn’t really seem to experience emotions in the same way as Floyd and thus is often just as at a loss about how to cope with them as anyone else. Thus, the only avenue he seems to trust to make him feel better is to mess with people...or to lash out at them.

So let’s talk about where those emotions stem from. Floyd’s emotions get read as unpredictable for a pretty good reason. They can shift on a dime with almost no warning, and suddenly everyone around him has to deal with the consequences. I don’t really blame any of them for wondering what the hell his deal is. However, I think when talking about Floyd’s emotions, it’s useful to separate the cause of the emotion from the scope of the emotion.

The scope of the emotion, as I’ve already stated, can be attributed to ADHD/ADHD-like issues with emotional dysregulation. As I’ve stated, having ADHD means that your brain doesn’t effectively filter your emotions to give you an idea of what a rational response looks like. As bewildering as it can sound, there are plenty of days where I just can’t connect the dots that what’s irritating me is a project I’m working on. I just know that I’m furious and everyone around me seems to be contributing to it. This doesn’t mean I get an excuse to treat people however I want, obviously, but it does mean that when I’m in the middle of it it can be difficult for me to realize that I’m getting angry at something that isn’t the root cause of my problem. It ALL feels like a cause. Additionally, this kind of behavior is often even harder to contain for people who are undiagnosed, because they don’t know enough about themselves to recognize that they’re being irrational. They may often assume that everyone would act this way in their situation, even if that’s not true. So, my argument is functionally that Floyd is experiencing perfectly rational emotions. He’s just experiencing them to a degree that is unusually destructive, and doesn’t know (or, admittedly, care) to stop himself from acting on them.

As far as the cause goes, while obviously there’s not one cause for every switch, it’s often pretty useful to piece out when you take the time to scrutinize his internal state. I’m gonna go through his vignettes now to point out where the switch happens, as well as why I think it happens.

School Uniform (R):

Floyd, while bored at the library, spots Riddle hunting for a book and decides to antagonize him, holding it over his head and making him chase him around the library for it. However, near there end, we hit this beat.

Floyd: C'mon! Catch me, catch me! I'll give you the book if you do!

Riddle: AUGH! STOP RUNNING AROUND! I AM DONE WITH YOU! Jade has never once pulled these silly pranks, and he's had every opportunity as a classmate! How twins could be such complete opposites, I'll never understand!

Floyd:...

Riddle:Why must you always, ALWAYS...?! Tell me, Floyd! What have I done to deserve this mistreatment?!

Floyd: Ugh. I'm bored.

Riddle: WHAT?!

Floyd: I'm out. Here⁠—take the book.

Riddle:What...just happened? I can't tell if I upset him, or if that was yet another one of his mood swings. *sigh* I've had enough of that man's caprices for a lifetime.

Riddle’s frustration here is 100% understandable here, and I don’t blame him for snapping like he does. Floyd is being a brat, and he’s doing it to bother him. However, I’ve spoken before about how I don’t really think Floyd enjoys being compared to his brother, and this vignette is a huge part of the reason why. Riddle’s not really saying anything different from what he was before. He’s shouting at him, getting upset, theoretically giving Floyd exactly what he wants. But he’s thrown a wrench in the works, asking Floyd implicitly why he can’t be more like his brother, and suddenly all the fun’s gone out of it for him.

It’s important how he frames it here too. He doesn’t say he’s upset. He says he’s bored, and tosses back the book. Again, I don’t want to poor meow meow Floyd too much here. But bothering Riddle is the endgame. There’s no reason for this to suddenly be boring for him...unless boredom is not actually the reason for him leaving, just what he decides to attribute the feeling to. He’s offended, maybe even legitimately hurt that a person who he considers (however unwillingly) a friend has just implied wanting him to be something other than what he is. He’s been rejected, and rather than confront that I think what he’s doing here is rejecting him right back. At least for now.

PE Uniform (R):

Floyd: Huh? What's up, Crabby? You're staring at me. Wanna join in?

Ace: I had no idea you were such a baller. You had three people after you, but you slipped around 'em like... I dunno, an eel or something! I'm seriously floored, dude.

Floyd: Aw, it's nothing special. If you thought that was cool, then check THIS out.

Ace: Ooh, ooh! What're you gonna do?

Floyd: Patience, Crabby. Stand there and watch. Lead up with a dribble and... Slaaam dunk! Yeah BOIII!

Ace: Whoaaa, that was crazy! You're tall AND you can jump that high? I call shenanigans! Ha ha.

Jamil: I'm with Ace on this one. You just jumped high enough to literally look down through the hoop. How did you even manage that?

Ace: You could totally go pro. Maaan, I wanna learn to dunk like that!

Floyd: I got a thing for swimming, obviously, but I like running and jumping too.

Ace: On that note... Would you be on my team for today's practice game?

Floyd: You wanna tag-team those chumps, eh? Sure. Why not?

----

Floyd: I'm bored.

Ace: What?

Jamil: Come on, the match has started.

Ace: Hold up, Floyd. What happened to those crazy skills you were just showing off?

Floyd: Uuugh, this is such a draaag. I quit.

Ace: What the heck, man?!

Floyd: I'm not in a basketball mood.

Ace: But you were totally in the zone like three seconds ago!

Floyd: Yeah. I had fun, and now I'm done.

Ace: Dude, quit being so lazy and make with the dunking already!

Floyd:You are REALLY starting to get on my nerves. How about I squeeze you until you can't whine anymore?

So we have here, pretty standard Floyd shenanigans. He’s having fun, until he isn’t, and then he makes that everyone else’s problem. Again, Ace isn’t in the wrong here for reacting as he does. From his perspective Floyd just flaked out on him and threatened him for asking that he do the thing he said he’d do. Floyd’s being a dick, regardless of the emotions he has around it. What I find most interesting about this interaction though, is specifically how Floyd responds to Ace’s praise. He’s surprisingly quick to undercut his own achievement, waving it off as nothing special even as he eagerly shows off for a little more of it. He reacts enthusiastically to Ace hyping him up, though he treats his own talents like something normal (“I like running and jumping”). Even agrees to be on his team, and I’ve mentioned how rare it is for Floyd to commit to something for someone else. I see this as an example of the “anxious” half of the mixed attachment. Floyd wants to be validated without having to beg for it, enough to jump into things quickly when he’s found an unexpected source of it.

And then a sea change occurs. Sudden mood drops or abrupt lack of interest isn’t exactly unusual with ADHD (though, it happens to Floyd a little quicker than most). Despite having fun with Ace he’s clearly ready to drop the task and move on to something more fun. When Ace (a little understandably) reacts with frustration, that’s when Floyd gets aggressive with him. The avoidant half kicks in. “Oh, so I’m just a dunking machine to you? Well fuck you too then.” He places distance between them to avoid having to really untangle his own feelings on why he’s suddenly demotivated, and also seemingly to hurt Ace for turning on him.

Labwear (SR)

Woof, this one is probably the clearest demonstration of Floyd’s emotional vacillation. Sorry for the back to back long quotes I’m gonna be doing here but. It’s relevant.

Crewel: Floyd Leech, would you care to explain yourself?

Floyd:......

Crewel: You're turning in my quiz completely blank. I can only conclude that you crave a taste of my signature discipline.

Floyd:......

Crewel: How long are you going to stay silent? Even puppies bark back when spoken to.

Floyd:...Aroo. There. Are we done yet, or did you have more barbs to sling my way? All this nagging is really harshin' my vibe.

Crewel:......You're bold, Younger Leech. I'll give you that much.

Floyd: I ain't "younger." I ain't "older," either, but c'mon.

Crewel: I suggest you exercise more discretion in deciding who you bare your fangs at.....you BAD DOG!

So here again, we see those consistent themes: Floyd’s frustration at being asked to explain himself when his motivation suddenly drops, and a connection drawn to Jade that seems to needle at him. Crewel seems to be assuming their birth order based on maturity here, which Floyd objects to very quickly. Almost like it bothers him that Jade was brought up at all.

Jade: Oh, hello, Floyd. Heading back to the dorm? ...What's wrong? You're glowering.

Floyd: Professor Beakfish chewed my head off and assigned me a fifty-page apology essay as punishment.

Jade:"Beakfish"? Like the black-and-white striped beakfish? Oh, you must be talking about Professor Crewel. What did you do to incur his wrath this time?

Floyd: Literally nothin'. I didn't feel like takin' a quiz, so I left it blank. I'm not the only guy with low grades in that class, so how come I'm the only one he singles out?

Jade: Didn't you score a perfect 100 on your last test? Of course he'd think you were slacking on purpose if you went from a 100 to a 0.

Floyd: Maaaan... This is lame.

I think it’s notable that Jade says “he’d think you were slacking on purpose”. Implying to me that he seems to understand that on some level, it’s not necessarily in Floyd’s control when he chooses to put in effort or not (though he acknowledges Crewel is coming to a pretty logical conclusion). Floyd leaves pretty shortly after this to be alone, too irritated to even confide in his twin, after which he has this exchange.

Savanaclaw Student: Hey, who thinks they can just bump into me without apologizin' or— Erk! F-F-Floyd!

Floyd:......

Savanaclaw Student A: S-sorry! We didn't know it was you...

Floyd: ......

Savanaclaw Student B: Look, uh, we don't want any trouble, so...

Floyd: Huh? Nah, don't feel like starting any.

Savanaclaw Student A: Wait, really?

Floyd: I said it's cool, okay? So how about you scram already before you make me wanna ruin YOUR day, too?

Again, we have another repeated pattern here. Floyd’s more likely to get aggravated when someone starts interrogating his motives. Its scope is unreasonable but its cause, at its bare essentials, is understandable. When you’re in a bad mood you don’t want someone to pester you with questions.

What ultimately turns Floyd’s mood around in this vignette isn’t some deep meaningful affirmation, and pretty essentially the most likely person to give it to him in this situation, Jade, doesn’t try. He’s in avoidant mode. He’s going to resist all forms of praise or encouragement and assume ill-intentions. What snaps him out of it, finally, is Ace and Deuce hitting him with color changing magic and him finding it so funny that it instantly snaps him out of his funk. His motivation is kickstarted again, and with it I’d argue a desire for affirmation:

Floyd:Aha ha! I didn't know you could be so incompetent at basic baby magic! You guys are hopeless! Look at this complete mess of colors I've got going from head to toe. Pinks, blues, yellows... What color were you even going for? It's kinda funny bein' this colorful!

Deuce: He's laughing? Does that mean...he's in better spirits now?

Ace: W-we're saved!

Floyd: Now I wanna give it a whirl! Heck, I'll give you guys some color-changing pointers while I'm at it.

Deuce: Who is he, and what has he done with Floyd...?

It seems like a whim, and to some extent it is. I doubt Floyd is really making many cognizant connections between this and his argument with Crewel earlier. But I think its important to understand: what put him in a bad mood was rejection, being chewed out and having it assumed that he’s being intentionally dense and not trying hard enough. What snaps him out of it is giddily spectating someone being actually incompetent, and realizing its something that he can not only try for himself, but help them do as well. That takes him right back up to his peak, and as a direct result, he stops avoiding people.

Ceremonial Robes: (also I couldn’t find an upload of the official translation for this vignette so. Here’s the link to the fan translation I ended up using: https://twistedtranslations.tumblr.com/post/614193938568495104/floyd-leech-dont-wanna-12)

So what does a positive interaction with Floyd look like? As I’ve said again and again: I really don’t wanna fault anyone I’ve previously shown for how they reacted to him. At the end of the day how Floyd feels is no one’s responsibility but his own, and the ways in which he lashes out are specifically designed to provoke and upset people. He can hardly complain when people get, well, provoked and upset. But I think the ceremonial robes vignette showcase an excellent example of someone finding a way to engage with him that actually produces positive and even productive results.

Kalim: If you like music that much, you should enter the light music club! We can play together.

Floyd: I’m fine.

Kalim: But you like musical performances, right? It’d be a waste to quit.

Floyd: I don’t like being told by a human what to do… And right now, moving my body is the most fun. Lately I’ve been interested in dancing! Now that I have two tail fins, it’s been so entertaining. Sometimes I can’t even tell the difference between left and right.

Kalim: Tail fins? Left and right… ah, do you mean your legs?

Floyd: Yes, legs! Moving your legs is fun, so dancing is fun as well. I love fun things. I don’t want to do boring things. Applies to everything.

Kalim: I also love fun things! They’re the best! That’s why even if I love music, I also love dancing… You know, our hobbies are kind of the same, huh?

Floyd: Huh…you think so?

Kalim: Yeah, do you want to try performing together next time?

Floyd: Aha. With me? Okay, but I think you’ll be surprised at how good I am.

Kalim: That’s fine, I’ve heard a lot about you. You should definitely show me how you dance.

Floyd: If I feel like it.

----

Kalim: Ah, here you are! Floyd, do you have a moment!?

Floyd: Huh, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to hold a party for the great observers?

Kalim: That’s where I have a problem. The guy who plays the main drum has gotten a cold and can’t participate today. We’ve tried to rehearse without the drum but the song doesn’t feel authentic without the percussion… And that’s when I remembered you.

Floyd: Me?

Kalim: You said you had experience with the drum. Don’t you want to show off your technique to everyone? I’m sure performing together will be fun. Come on Floyd, let’s liven up the party together!

Floyd: Huh? Don’t wanna.

Kalim: …Huh. What do you mean you don’t wanna?

Jade: Pf. Floyd, it wouldn’t hurt you to be more polite in your refusals.

Floyd: I don’t wanna do things I don’t like.

Kalim: But didn’t you tell me it was fine when I offered you earlier to perform together?

Floyd: I told you I didn’t like being ordered around by humans, didn’t I? And you know, I don’t feel like matching with y’all.

Kalim: You don’t have to force yourself to match the other guys. If you do things like you do, that’s fine as well.

Floyd: … For real?

Kalim: Of course! As I said before, having fun at a party is essential! The guests and the entertainers should both have fun.

Floyd: Okay, then I’ll do it.

Kalim: Really?!

Floyd: Yeah. As long as I can do whatever I want.

Kalim: You really saved me, thank you, Floyd!

Floyd is trying to fall into his usual habits, being intentionally difficult, squirming out of things he otherwise promised to do, and insisting on having his own way. In this state of mind even Jade struggles to get him to do anything. But Kalim somehow intuitively hits on the way home. He reaffirms Floyd’s desire to have fun, and encourages him to do his own thing without worrying about whether its correct or not. Floyd even seems a little thrown off by it, confused that Kalim doesn’t have more of a problem with him and surprised by the extent to which he seems to identify with him. As a result, he agrees, as long as it can be on his own terms, and the performance goes shockingly well...

....For a while!

Floyd: … Eergh! Just hitting stuff is boring.

Kalim: U-uh, Floyd, why did you suddenly throw your sticks away!

Floyd: You were the one who told me I could do what I wanted. I feel more like dancing than playing drums.

Kalim: It’s true that I said that, but… Why did you abandon your instrument?!

Floyd: You’re supposed to have fun at a party, right? Everyone should stand up and do whatever they want~

Kalim: … Haha, ahaha! Man, this became super lively and fun. Floyd’s really dancing without worries. Okay. A party shouldn’t be like this. Come on everyone, sing and dance! Don’t hold back on enjoying this bustling party.

Floyd: Oh, you guys finally stood up. How about I’ll strangle you if you don’t get excited?

Jamil: What a terrible fuss. Certainly, a party should be enjoyed… But there’s a limit to everything.

Azul: Floyd’s drumming was popular in his home town. It had a rhythm that made you move your body just by listening to it. Well, the guy himself broke out in dancing all the time… It was always troublesome.

Jamil: If this isn’t a chaotic situation. Aah, how will I explain this to the principal…

Azul: Do not worry, I shall help you. That’s why I came.

Jamil: Why do I have the feeling it won’t be free of charge. My head hurts… I also feel like dancing and forgetting everything.

Kalim: Isn’t this fun, Floyd!

Floyd: Yeah. Dancing is enjoyable after all. … Let’s get fired up even more!

Floyd’s being difficult again, temporarily flummoxing Kalim. What’s crucial here though, is that Kalim doesn’t become upset with him. He does the best thing one can do with Floyd, and rolls right with the punches. For as chaotic as it is, it genuinely seems to improve spirits at the party. Even Jamil, stressed and overworked, seems to get into the spirit as he accepts there’s probably no stopping this train. As a result, Floyd’s investment doesn’t waver. He continues to have a good time. Even the threats, though they seemingly aren’t avoidable, seem more playful than actually angry. It’s a rare interaction with Floyd where everyone walks away a little bit the better for it.

Concluding notes:

So to restate my points: No, I don’t believe Floyd Leech is secretly a sad little boy so tormented by the cruel world. Floyd gets pretty much the reaction one would expect from his behavior. He doesn’t put in the effort to explain himself, or to control himself, and as a result it’s not really fair to expect other people to do the work of untangling his feelings for him. Additionally, I think for the most part, he’s genuinely a pretty happy guy. He has his low points, like anyone, but by and large I think we seem him being pretty content with his life and relationships as they are. Some people don’t need to resolve every issue they have to achieve some sort of equilibrium. I’d argue that Floyd is very much one of those people.

However, in service of a broader analysis: I think often times, we act the way that we’re treated as much as we’re treated the way that we act. Even by the people who know him best, Floyd is often treated as inexplicable, irrational and even frustrating to deal with. For as true as those statements often are, I think it has influenced his own relationship to his internal state. He lacks the kind of cognitive structure necessary to unpack why he feels a certain way, or what he needs to do about it. Oftentimes, I think he’s even a little out of touch with what he’s feeling. All negative emotions get looped under the same category: bored. And being bored is the worst thing there is for someone like Floyd. It’s an itchy, powerless feeling that makes you feel suddenly adrift. What was just working for you, making you happy and excited to be where you were, has suddenly turned on you, one way or another. And now, its hard to even get excited about moving on to something else. What if that turns on you too.

As an extension of this, to quote the old song, how can you know who you are till you know what you want? Floyd is cued enough into himself to know when he’s lacking something, but because all bad feelings are boredom, the only solution left is to sulk or to make something happen. It doesn’t matter what his brain is actually crying out for (validation, stimulation, comfort, privacy). He just has to make something happen (even bad things), or go hide in his room until he can’t take the quiet anymore. Then, when the dust is settled, everyone’s mad at him, and he still doesn’t know or understand why he’s feeling/felt this down. It’d be tragic, if it also weren’t often so, so funny.

[wistfulcynic]

in December 2008 i moved permanently from the USA to the UK and promptly got an ear infection. It was intensely painful, like an ice pick through my skull. i took some OTC painkiller and lay in bed, moaning and miserable. 

my (English) husband looked at me like i’d grown a third head. 

“if it’s that bad why don’t you just go to the doctor?” he said. 

“i--i can go to the doctor in this country!” was my reply. 

at that time, it had probably been 5-6 years since i’d seen a doctor. Not since i stopped being on my dad’s insurance. Even when i’d had my own insurance (via my grad school institution as part of my teaching assistantship compensation, the same insurance as the professors had. Probably pretty good. Still too confusing and scary for me) i never felt like i had the spare cash to cover a copay, was always afraid that what i needed wouldn’t be covered by the insurance. i ignored an abscess in my mouth for weeks until it finally burst in a geyser of pus you definitely don’t want me to go into further detail about, because i was worried that would count as dental and i didn’t have dental coverage. 

you get the picture. Health care in the US sucks hard. 

when my ear was infected, my husband phoned his local GP surgery (with which i was not registered, i was an immigrant on a spouse visa, only arrived the previous week), got me an appointment later that day. They saw me, diagnosed me, gave me a prescription for antibiotics for which i paid (i think, at the time) roughly £7. Cleared up in a few days. 

all i paid for was the prescription. 

some years later my husband made me go to the doctor again. i was having random symptoms i wasn’t even sure were symptoms, a weird laundry list of stuff that could be connected or could be nothing. i went to the GP with this list, worried that they’d take one look at a heavyset woman and immediately go “lose weight fatty!” or “diabetes!” They did not. The doctor was a young-ish woman who listened carefully to everything i told her, looked at my list of symptoms, and said “we’ll test for other things, but I’m 99% sure this is a problem with your thyroid. i’m going to start you on some medicine while we wait for the test results.” 

prescriptions were by then something in the neighbourhood of £8. 

a few days later i got a call from the lab that had run my blood tests. They told me that my thyroid levels were through the roof, so high they were actively dangerous. Cardiac arrest was a likely outcome if it was left untreated. They advised me to get a prescription immediately, and were audibly relieved when i told them i already had one. 

if i’d not been living in a country with free-at-the-point-of-service health care, i would not have seen a doctor. The NHS saved my life. 

why am i going on about this? Well. It’s because NHS workers have planned a strike for later this month, and the press are already on the attack. Fearmongering about how this will throw the system into chaos, patients will go untreated, etc etc blah blah all with the very unsubtle spin of “blame the workers. Blame the strikers. They’re putting your lives in danger.” 

zero mention of how dire the situation is in many hospitals. Not enough nurses (because Brexit among other reasons) and the ones we do have are overworked and underpaid. Too many patients not enough beds. Old buildings, old equipment. 

none of which is a problem with the system. The system’s great. The system works. The problem is the predatory Tory government who would love nothing more than a privatised, US-style insurance-based healthcare system off of which they and their cronies can profit. The problem is how the government has been starving the NHS of funds for over a decade, under the guise of “austerity” and how we all need to muck in together. Except them, obviously. They’re different. 

the problem is absolutely not the people striking because they, like nearly all of us in this country, are shamefully underpaid. Because they deserve compensation for their hard and dangerous work. Compensation they are not being given, despite their attempts at negotiation. 

whenever collective action happens there are always people eager to blame the workers. Greedy nurses, refusing to treat us when we need them because they think their pay is more important. How dare they? They have a responsibility to do their jobs! i am urging all my UK mutuals and anyone who reads this not to be taken in by these spurious arguments or any spin doctoring from the news rags. Side with the workers! Side with the nurses. Side with the people who want the NHS well-funded and thriving. A robust national health service is a universal good. Ours is creaky and wobbling but that is from mistreatment, not because the principle is unsound. i promise you, however frustrating you find the NHS, an American-style system is far, far worse. 

[worldformula]

I am asking about the aitsf au 👀

And I am answering! I’m gonna go down a bullet list of things I don’t think I’ve mentioned about our AU! Specifically about the siblings because my inbox is mostly about Ryuki + Saito lol so this will be a long one! Thank you for letting me go on and on about this AU seriously I enjoy it very much.

AITSF / AINI SPOILERS.

Warnings for violence, child abuse, and some seriously bad family dysfunction.

Saito has a scar around his neck, which he covers with a black choker (this is me trying to justify why he appears to be wearing two turtlenecks) (I know it’s because his model is weird but who cares). He got this from a childhood accident where Uru got angry and pushed him as they were swinging with ropes and he nearly got strangled to death. The scar is from the rope burns as he struggled. Uru wasn’t actually ever afraid of him until that day because Saito beat him up so badly for it that they had to get separated by the guards. This was also before Iris.

Following that, there is an ending where Uru finally gets to kill him (of course, it’s strangulation. Finish what you started, Uru.) but it’s also a bad one. Pretty much any ending where Saito gets killed is a bad one. But also you can imagine how insane A-Set stan Twitter is going to look following the news release that Iris’ brother killed her other brother (who killed her mother).

There was a period of 6 months where Uru and Saito just did not see each other, following Manaka’s murder. While So tried to figure out what to do about Saito, he just locked him in his room (though obviously he was let out for like, assessments and basic care) and had guards make sure no one went near (but mostly to make sure Saito didn’t get out). Uru did not know about this at all and was told he was sent away for health reasons.

Between the untreated physiological brain disorder making him upset and the distress of being stuck in The Room for so long, he developed a fear of being trapped / unable to escape. Once he was let out he moved rooms entirely and avoids The Room, which is left intact with proof of his tantrums / meltdowns (broken CRT tv, messed up walls and floors, etc).

Iris and Uru have no idea why he’s antsy about it and it bothers him immensely that they don’t have the same fear of being trapped as he does, even when he used to lock them in closets whenever he got angry with them.

This is also why he chooses to put So’s body in something as small and morbid as The Vase (it’s the vengeance babey). I have this headcanon outside of the AU but it fit really well into here, so this is the room where Hitomi shoots and kills Saito in her final girl bad ending. We love karmic retribution.

If the siblings just unionized against So, they could easily kick his ass and live like normal people. But they aren’t ever going to do that because Saito is so poisoned by the belief that he’s better than the others because he’s the true born son and they’re all inferior to him (which is undermined by the fact that So is more restrictive of him than the others + Saito himself knows he’s on thin ice constantly and is insecure about it).

So doesn’t really like any of his kids because he’s the root of all evil but if he had to pick a favorite it is actually Iris. Because Saito has a body count and Uru is deeply insecure to the point of being pathetic but at least Iris is a nice young woman who is doing literally everything she can to stay out of it. Tbh she’s slightly spared from the mind games by the sheer age gap between her and her brothers.

Despite literally all of this dysfunction, for the most part they all get along tentatively. Saito’s made himself the top of the pecking order, Uru follows Saito’s lead (but is extremely unhappy about it which is why he ends up violently repressed, susceptible to cult indoctrination, and trigger happy), and Iris respects them both from a sad distance.

The problem is that they occasionally have pretty good moments together so no matter how bad it gets, those few moments make them forget about it. Saito in particular occasionally does stand up for them against So. He was the one who convinced So to let Iris be an idol, for which she’s grateful. But he stands up to So on their behalf as a sort of power move, because neither of them have ever really stood up to their father the way Saito is able to (further establishing to them that he’s the favorite of them all).

On a lighter note, Uru in this AU is actually naturally a brunet and bleaches his hair blond. On a darker note, the combination of coloring his hair like Saito and the fact that he dresses like him (turtleneck + blazer) surely doesn’t mean anything about his self image relating to his older brother now does it.

That was 11 bullet points which I think is enough from me. Thank you!

[olderthannetfic]

I wasn’t baiting I was being serious. I had a CC scream at me because I sent them an ask that made them uncomfortable. instead of telling me it made them uncomfortable they ignored me so I spammed them asking what was wrong with my ask and that’s when they started screaming at me to leave them alone and that I wasn’t entitled to their attention and I should take a hint. This triggered my RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria) and I lashed out at them and now they did a callout on me my life is ruined. This is why I hate boundaries.

--

Ouch, nonnie. That whole situation sounds super unhealthy and awful!

I don't think boundaries are the issue here, however.

They and you would both have had feelings regardless of their stated boundaries. It is inevitable that we sometimes get rejected, and being rejected hurts.

From just this brief description I, of course, cannot understand all the nuances of the situation, but even just from this, I'm seeing some bad signs:

You "spammed" them instead of waiting for them to answer an ask? Most people don't like being bugged about their unanswered asks because it tends to trigger feelings of guilt and anxiety and/or they just hate the topic in the ask. You can check in once to make sure it's not Tumblr eating messages; after that, you should assume they saw it but prefer not to answer (which is their right). Even if this doesn't seem intuitive to you, you can memorize this rule. You've learned a painful lesson and that sucks.

(And no "I get anxious when I'm ignored" is not an excuse. If you're so anxious you can't function, that's a job for your therapist, not the CC who is ignoring you.)

--

But also, they screamed at you right away? This could just be a you problem. It's hard to tell from your description. But if this is also a them problem, it sounds like they may not know what their boundaries are until someone trips over one. They may be vulnerable and not someone who can easily tolerate the internet limelight.

A hair trigger for posting callouts tends to point to someone having untreated PTSD and other shit they need support for. It's not your job to support them, of course. You don't need to be happy about being yelled at. Nobody likes being yelled at.

But let's keep a sense of perspective: maybe there are things wrong with them that they also can't help and that make them lash out too. It might not just be about you.

--

Your life is ruined? No. Your life is not ruined. You are hurt, but this isn't The End.

That's just your brain lying to you.

You feel like crap, and that sucks, but you can still feel better in the future. You can still make new friends. You can still be in fandom or follow CCs or whatever else.

I was canceled, and it was traumatic. I still have some PTSD from it that turns up occasionally. I am still always finding random friends-of-friends who act like joining in on a years-old cancellation will protect them and wash them clean of sin. (Spoiler: if you hang out with people who need someone on the chopping block to feel good, eventually, that person will be you. Just saying.)

But I also have 10x the fandom friends I did prior to it. I've ditched a whole set of people who are stuck in feelings of being left behind and defensive. I've met a ton of new people I never would have in the past, so I both know a lot more about parts of fandom I never saw before and am able to tell a lot more people about fandom history and how I see fannish norms.

--

My personal boundary is that if you come up to my face, I can and I will respond... if I feel like it. Or not, if I don't.

I'm not going to let "boundaries are the problem" fly on my blog even if it's something your traumatized brain wants to be true and insists on. Maybe it makes you feel bad to hear that this is a symptom of your current trauma and not reality.

Too bad.

Hearing my opinion is the price you pay for sending me asks.

Go practice some self-soothing, anon. Watch a comfort show. Hang out on some other part of the internet that isn't where this CC is. Play a mindless phone game to anesthetize your brain when it wants to obsess. Go to bed at a consistent time and wake up at a consistent time. Get 8 hours of sleep. Eat healthily. (No, I am so not kidding. Food and sleep have a profound effect on emotional shit.)

You're here on my blog, an adult space, so whomever you are, you're old enough to set some mental health-improving boundaries for yourself. One could be not trying to interact with this type of CC so that you can avoid this type of situation. Or one could be sending one ask and then immediately going jogging or to a movie or to class so that you can't sit there fussing about why it hasn't been answered yet.

The CC doesn't owe you anything, but you owe some things to yourself. RSD is genuinely hard to handle. Be kind to yourself. There are ways to cope, at least to a degree.

[rebeccccccaaa]

🅑🅐🅓 🅑🅞🅨

__________________________________

🅢🅣🅔🅥🅔 🅡🅞🅖🅔🅡🅢 🅧 🅡🅔🅐🅓🅔🅡

🅡🅔🅠🅤🅔🅢🅣: Aa, idk if your requests are open, but I *love* you sex pollen fics! I was wondering if you'd be able to write one with a dom reader? I don't mind what character, but they get affected by the pollen and are really subby ect? ❤️✨

🅦🅐🅡🅝🅘🅝🅖🅢: brief graphic violence, Smut 18+ (slight bondage, degradation, begging, dom!reader, edging, male masterbation, overstimulation, mommy kink, dom/sub), kinda fluffy aftercare for steve 

🅐🅤🅣🅗🅞🅡’🅢 🅝🅞🅣🅔: girl i am not dominant! omlll i hope this was ok, i really tried to step out of my comfort zone a bit with this one but i don’t know if it’s dommy enough :( but i hope it’s what you were hoping for :) it’s long but i think it’s worth the read teehee

__________________________________

“Steve are you alright?” you asked him as he emerged from the greenhouse. He was thrown through the glass roof by high tech Hydra weapons. There was yellow dust clouding his nose and eyes and it looked uncomfortable.

“Yeah, let’s finish this mission and get back!” he started running with you.

Hydra agents flooding in the room stalling you and Steve from getting back to the quinjet. As you were fighting you looked over to Steve to make sure he was still doing alright, you noticed how much more aggressive he was fighting. He smashed their heads in and broke their bones; it was much more violent than how Steve normally fought. 

That was something you expected from Nat or Bucky, their lives were violent before the Avengers but Steve was all about stealth and less casualties so seeing him so brutal and cruel was somewhat frightening. 

“Steve. Steve!” you pulled him from his rampage.

“What!”

“What’s going on?” you yelled.

“Nothing! Let’s just get back to the quinjet,” he huffed and left.

The ride back home was quiet except for the heavy breathing and grunting that came from Steve practically every minute. You wanted to yell at him for being an annoying little shit but you knew he would rip you apart if you yelled at him again.

Suddenly you received a phone coming in from Tony Stark.

“Hey Tony. We’re on our way back already,” you said.

“Good. We uh, we noticed the Hydra Greenhouse was destroyed, did either you guys go in there or fight anyone in there?” he asked; one the Shield agents reported it to the Avengers Tower.

“Oh yeah Steve was thrown in there through the roof but he's fine now, I think. He’s being extra mean to me though,” you sassed, making Steve roll his eyes as he was eavesdropping.

“Mean? How?” Tony asked.

“Well, he’s being really aggressive. Dude got so angry all of the sudden,” you responded.

“Ok, we’ll talk again you guys get back,” he said and hung up.

When you guys landed Steve had a stern expression and walked uncomfortably to the lab where Tony and the rest of the team were waiting. You and Steve had been sent on the mission alone and it seems like something happened that everyone but you two were aware of.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Tony and Bruce walked up to Steve and inspected his face. He still had bits of golden pollen stuck to his eyelashes and the tip of his nose. Steve swatted Tony’s hand away and practically growled in anger. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscle bulged from his head.

“He got hit,” Thor said.

“Got hit with what?” Steve saidly rudely. 

“The pollen. Hydra confided a greenhouse in Moscow, where you guys were, to experiment on a specific species of flowers found in other galaxies for… breeding. It makes the victim completely lust driven until they well, breed,” Bruce explained. 

“What?” you started laughing.

“Is he gonna be impossibly horny now?” you smirked, making Steve roll his eyes.

“The effects can be detrimental to humans when untreated but since Steve has the super soldier serum I’m not sure what could happen,” Thor spoke up.

“How are you feeling Steve?” Nat asked, walking up to him.

“I’m fine,” Steve said.

“Maybe we should take some tests?” Bruce asked. 

“No, no, no! Guys I’m fine,” Steve bargain.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked him.

“Yeah, if I start feeling weird, I’ll come back to the lab, deal?” he said; everyone was skeptical about him considering you reported that Steve became suddenly more aggressive than ever before. It might’ve had something to do with the effects of the pollen.

“Maybe you should just stay. Tony and Bruce can monitor you and you won’t-”

“Nat, I’ll be fine,” Steve interrupted. 

“Ok.”

Steve wasn’t fine.

It’s been a few hours since you and Steve got back from the mission and Steve was in excruciating pain. He felt so embarrassed he could even walk to the door without desperately wishing the floor would open up and swallow him. 

He had a boner and there was no way in a million years Steve was gonna let anyone catch him like that. Steve spent almost two hours in the shower alone fisting his cock desperate to cum and make it go away but nothing was working.

He even thought about you and you were getting him close but to have you in person would’ve been the cherry on top. Since the stupid enter his system images and thoughts of you and you alone were the only thing he could think about. But there was no way you’d ever have sex with him, even if his life depended on it. 

Steve wasn’t really particularly nice to you. And today especially the pollen making him horny as fuck for you made easily aggitated because he could’t get a release. And the serum amplified everything, so he got instantly hit with the effects but played it off thinking it wasn’t going to feel this awful by now. 

But again, that didn’t stop him from thinking about your body and how beautiful you were to him; even way before today. Steve always thought relationships should stay out of a workplace especially one so demanding like yours. He knew it was stupid because Wanda and Vision were doing alright, and so was Tony and Pepper. 

He told himself that only because his relationship with Sharon was quite awful. But he wanted to try again and try a relationship with you. He wanted to make you laugh, wake up next to you and make breakfast with you together. Maybe even dominate him? Steve had always wanted to try that but Sharon was very vanilla; and you were quite the controlling person, it was sexy as hell he thought.

A knock on the door pulled him out his thoughts of you. He pulled his sweatpants up and opened the door just a crack to avoid practically flashing his guest with his very prominent boner. 

“Hey just checking in. it’s been a while since you left the lab, and no one’s seen you come out of your room,” it was you. Steve almost moaned at the sight of you but kept somewhat composure processing what you were saying. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he stuttered. 

“You’re alright?” you said condescendingly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he pushed out.

“You’re fine,” you whispered, crossing your arms.

“You know the walls are thin,” you smirked.

The small smile on his face dropped because he was sure that you heard his little escapades in the shower. 

“So here’s my offer, since it was my name you were so desperately moaning I can either fix your little, well, big problem or I can walk away and tell Tony and everyone else that not only are you experiencing the symptoms of the sex pollen plant that you supposed notify Tony and Bruce in the first place but that you’re also so desperate to fuck me as much as you pretend to deny it,” you spoke smoothly. 

Steve breathed out heavily before opening the door defeated letting you in. You smirked excitedly walking into Steve’s room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t completely head over heels for the guy. And that beard you convinced him to grow wasn’t helping your attraction either.

“Strip,” you commanded.

“Pardon?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“Steve, oh baby, tsk, tsk, tsk,” you shook your head, walking up to 

“What?”

“You're going to do everything that I ask you to do and the minute you disobey me, I walk out and let you suffer,” you whispered to him, “Got it?”

He nodded. Probably more eager than he meant it to be, which made you giggle.

“So as I said before, strip,” you repeated.

Steve took his shirt off followed by his sweats leaving him in his boxers in front of you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” you said sternly.

Steve took his boxers off leaving him completely in the nude; his cock stood tall against his stomach and you were impressed. The sight of him made you grow wet but you are so going to have your fun with him before you even think about taking even your shirt off.

“Get on your knees,” you told him.

Steve didn’t hesitate to kneel in front of you; his dick getting harder with each passing second. The pollen started to affect his mind more now that you were in his proximity. His mind was getting cloudy and all he could start to think about was your delicious scent that made him want to simply ravish you unconditionally. 

“How are you feeling?” you mocked him.

“Please,” he whimpered. 

“Please what?” 

“Please touch me,” he begged. 

“Aw, you want me to touch you? Like a little slut? Huh?”

Your words made him whimper and moan.

“Well, someone was being a bad boy today. First you yelled at me when I was trying to help, then you lied to Tony who was also trying to help, and then I find out about your pathetic little crush on me. I don’t think you get what you want just yet, baby.”

You grabbed his chin and sat him on the bed you kneel in front of him, his dick in front of your face aching to be touched. Steve resisted the urge to move his hips towards as you resisted the urge to touch him and pleasure him. But like before, you wanted to have a bit of fun.

“Hm, I want you to keep begging me,” you stood up abruptly, making Steve whimper.

“Please, Y/n, I need you to touch, please it hurts.”

You squinted to eyes unimpressed.

“Mommy, please,” Steve’s hands reached out to you and pulled close. You almost got upset for him touching you without your permission but when he lifted your shirt and pressed delicate little kisses in your tummy you almost caved.

“Mommy; I like it,” you pushed his shoulders down so he laid on the bed. 

You walked back a bit putting distance in between you and took off your shirt leaving a bra on; one you had specifically put on because it made you feel the sexiest. Steve’s eyes widen slightly before drooping completely admiring the skin you put on display for him; even if it's just your shoulders and stomach for now.

“Touch yourself,” you commanded.

Steve reached down and quickly stroked his cock; his hands moving up and down rapidly chasing his release. You moved your hand to your breast and squeezed one just to tease Steve some more; biting your lip seductively.

Steve’s moans got louder and with you standing right there teasing him and mocking him, he was finally, after hours of trying to climax, he was finally reaching the edge. You watched him closely and when his hand began to stutter you spoke up.

“Stop.”

“What?” he breathed out. 

“You heard me.”

You did this for an hour and a half. Now you sat naked on the sofa chair in his room rubbing your fingers on your clit about to cum for the third time while Steve still had yet to cum. They were tears running down his distressed face. Whimpers and whines and moans choked out of him as he was being edged for far too long than he’d like.

“You ready, my fucking man whore,” you stalked up to him.

“Please, mommy. Please fuck me, I need so bad,” Steve reached for you with shaky hands.

“You’re so fucking cute when you beg,” you mocked, straddling his hips.

Steve’s hands rubbed your thighs and you lined his cock with your entrance. You sunk down and moaned already so sensitive from your previous orgasms. Your hands rested against Steve’s chest as he screwed his eye shut; an overwhelming sensation coming over him.

You rocked your hips back and forth rubbing your clit against his pelvis bringing you close to your final orgasm. Steve whimpered under you and moaned beautifully. His hips bucked up into you ferociously hitting a particular spot that made you moan loudly and high pitched.

“Fuck, Stevie. Your cock feels so good,” you leaned down to whisper.

“Fuck I’m so close,” he cried.

“You wanna come? You wanna come inside me?” you teased.

“Please mommy, let me come, please,” he begged.

“You gonna be a good boy if I do?” 

“Yes!”

“Go on, baby boy. Come for me.”

Steve came with a shout of your name and you felt the hot spurts of cum coating your walls making you come in time with him. Steve's chest had a layer of sweat of the flushed redden skin. He panted under you, his body shaking vigorously but his face had a small smile and his hands rubbed your back and cheeks when you fell forward after climaxing. 

“Holy fuck, I think that did it,” Steve chuckled.

“I had a great time,” you laughed. 

You got up and went to his bathroom to grab a washcloth soaked with warm water and a bit of soap. You went back to Steve cleaning his pelvis and dick that slick with yours and his cum. His body was still trembling but not as drastic as before, and when you placed the warm washcloth on his skin his body jerked lightly.

As you cleaned him you pressed soft kisses to his stomach and chest making him sigh in content. You went back and cleaned yourself privately and came out with a new washcloth slightly less warm to cool his skin down since his body got very hot from being edged for the past hour and half and not even being able to get close all day before you came. 

He stayed still, eyes focused to the ceiling feeling solace by your soft touch cleaning him up. When you finished you gathered your clothes to dress yourself so you could leave him to rest and then the next pretend like nothing of this happened.

“Hey wait,” he said, making you look at him trying your best to cover your modesty. You played a part and now that the small agreement was over you felt a bit shy under Steve’s gaze who still looked at you lustfully.

“Don’t you wanna stay?” he said softly.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” you smiled sadly. You did genuinely like him; even when he wasn’t particularly nice to you sometimes. But you didn’t think he felt the same way even after the effects of the pollen. You thought maybe he only desired you because you were the first person he laid eyes on when he got hit with the pollen.

“The pollen wore off, doll. Come to bed. You tired me out,” he laughed and moved in hands gesturing you to come to him. 

“Why are you still being weird then?” you smiled softly.

“Get your ass in bed with me so we can cuddle; fuck you’re so stubborn.”

“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so obsessed with me all of the sudden,” you teased. 

“Doll, I’ve been obsessed since I laid my eyes on you,” he said closing his eyes, which made you gasp dramatically.

“You were dating Sharon when we met!”

“Sh! Go to sleep,” he buried his face in your neck.

“Ugh, bad boy,” you playfully hit him.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll get even with ya next time, and we’ll see who’s being bad then,” he whispered sensually making you excited. Maybe the pollen wasn’t such a bad thing.

Taglist:

@mathletemadison

[informationsorter]

Let's talk about self diagnosing.

(This is purely a personal opinion piece.)

CW: Descriptions of hypothetical physical injury.

So I'm going to start off by immediately settling your minds - I believe self diagnosis can be both good and bad. I’m not here to judge, gatekeep, or vilify. *************************************************************

A quick overview of the sections: 3 problems/examples. 5 questions/opinions.

 *************************************************************

Determining that you have an issue, does not mean that it is the only issue.

Lets start with a hypothetical example where the self diagnosis is obviously correct:

- You've fallen down the stairs. - You can see a bone sticking out of your leg. - You deduce that you have broken your leg.

This is almost certainly accurate, as there is no healthy explanation for the visible evidence.

However, this may not be the whole story.

What we’re really doing in this situation is identifying symptoms and possible/probably causes.

The symptoms are: - Pain. - Visible evidence of a broken bone. - Visible evidence of wounded skin. - Probably experiencing shock - Pale, cold, clammy skin. Shallow, rapid breathing. Anxiety. Rapid heartbeat. Etc.

The probable diagnosis: A broken leg bone.

When you arrive at the hospital, they will do an x-ray. They may discover additional injuries, for instance the bone may be broken in several places, a tendon may have been severed.

Their treatment of your issues relies on the full knowledge that they are able to learn via their tests. If they (somehow) were to treat only your broken bone and the flesh wound, you would likely end up with further health problems as the extra broken bones were not set properly, and the severed tendon would not heal on it's own.

This is a rather ridiculous example of course, but that's why I started with it.

You may believe that you know what the issue is, but if you do not have the right equipment/training, you may not be able to identify the full extent of the issue.

Even if you know what the issue is, you may not be able to determine the full impact of it.

For example: - You notice that whenever you eat citrus, your mouth and tongue start tingling/going numb. There may be also be symptoms such as sweating, feeling faint, swelling of lips/tongue. You conclude that you are allergic to citrus. You act on this by avoiding citrus. That’s all fine and reasonable. However, with this information you only know that you have a reaction to citrus. You don’t know the full extent. Are you mildly allergic? Are you at risk of anaphylactic shock? Sometimes you do not need to know the full extent (in this example you can simply avoid lemon). But sometimes you DO need to learn everything you can about it, in order to live the best life possible. 

Especially when the issue is not something easily avoided such as a minor food allergy.

You might group all of your symptoms together, leading to you accidentally obscuring one issue by presenting it as another.

(An example using some of my own symptoms & past trauma experiences.)

You have diagnosed yourself with autism based on the following symptoms:

- Difficulty forcing eye contact with others.

- Inability to read the invisible social cues that neurotypical’s can see/read.

- Discomfort/anxiety in social settings / large groups.

- An extreme feeling of mental shutdown in response to loud noises/music.

These could indeed be symptoms of autism, however they can also be symptoms of other issues in play.

For instance, discomfort or anxiety in social settings could be due to an anxiety disorder.

The loud noises/music may mimic sounds from traumatic events - initiating flashbacks or fight/flight/freeze instincts.

You go to a therapist.

Your therapist listens to your concerns and symptoms, and looks for other explanations for these symptoms.

This is to ensure that the diagnosis they give you will be accurate, and thus the treatment you receive will be the most effective treatment possible for you.

If you did not go to the therapist with this, you may have been able to deal with the autism symptoms fairly well, but the anxiety and PTSD would go untreated. Your problems would not go away, because you weren’t treating ALL of your issues.

When do I believe it is acceptable to self diagnose without seeking professional verification of your self diagnosis?

- When the issue/symptoms do not affect your life in any substantial way;

- When the issue is self evident;

- When there is no indication that there is an unseen element;

- When the issue does not require urgent or extensive treatment.

Eg: Mild allergy to citrus, which can easily be avoided in your daily life.

In this sort of case, I believe it is important to stay aware of the symptoms and immediately seek a professional opinion if there is a change in severity, frequency, or perceived cause, of these symptoms.

Eg: One day you have a drink that had a lemon wedge on the rim, and the symptoms are far stronger, or appear far sooner, than they used to.

Or:

One day you have the same reaction, but you did not consume any citrus.

When do I believe that it is helpful to ask a professional to confirm/refute your self assessment?

Always.

There may be situations where the professional can’t offer any treatment (eg: a mild food allergy, where avoiding it is all that can be done). But if you feel anxiety over the uncertainty of it, and you want a professional assessment, diagnosis, or testing, you are of course entitled to it.

Whether it pinpoints a cause, or rules out a cause, finding out for sure will increase the chances of you receiving appropriate treatment.

Additionally, professional tests and assessments can identify previously unnoticed symptoms and/or issues.

(Such as additional injuries in example 1, or separate disorders in example 3.)

Do I believe that you should tell your health professional that you have self-diagnosed / self-assessed your symptoms?

Yes.

Especially with mental health issues, where your therapist’s assessment of you may be affected erroneously by them noticing that you are holding something back.

They may believe you are uncomfortable with them, or have some trust issues which you may not have.

If you simply tell your therapist that you have recorded your symptoms and searched for answers on your own, the therapist will be able to make a more accurate assessment of you.

It also gives them a good starting point, as they immediately know that the issue is concerning to you, and that you are ready to seek help for it.

Any health professional worth their training should be able to understand that you seeking explanations for your symptoms is natural, and should be willing to look into something that you are concerned about.

Eg: I told my GP (physical health doctor) that I was concerned about a specific lung condition which seemed to fit symptoms that I had been experiencing for over a decade. He listened, he asked further questions, he performed tests for the condition I had brought up, and he performed tests for other possible explanations.

In the end he determined that I did not have that condition, and we went from there.

Why do health professionals dislike self-diagnosis?

The issue with self diagnosis is that a patient can become convinced that they have something that they do not actually have.

This can lead to the patient: - Misinterpreting symptoms - Ignoring symptoms which do not fit their self-diagnosis - Unintentionally manifesting somatic symptoms which fit the self-diagnosis (this refers to a patient believing they have a condition, and their body beginning to show those symptoms. This is not the same as purposefully faking.) - Refusing testing for something other than their self-diagnosed issue - Refusing to accept that there may be a different issue - Refusing to accept that there may be additional issues - Resorting to self-help remedies which may be ineffective or actively dangerous to the patient

They aren’t just being difficult or elitist - they are concerned that your self-diagnosis may impact their ability to accurately diagnose and help you.

This is a particular concern when the health professional doesn’t know you well enough to be able to determine how much your belief will impact your symptoms, or whether you will be open to treatment if they determine a diagnosis which conflicts with your self-diagnosis.

Your health professional has YOUR health and safety in mind.

(If you believe this isn’t true, you should seek a second opinion.)

Should your health professional just accept your self-diagnosis?

It is your therapist’s duty to independently assess your symptoms, and possible causes for those symptoms.

It is not an attack on you, it is not a sign of distrust.

Think of it like scientists - they don’t just say “oh well that guy’s experiment showed these results, so they must be correct.” They go out and duplicate the experiment to check their results against the original results.

Yes, it’s not a perfect metaphor. No two people’s life experiences are the same. No two people’s brains will react identically to the same thing.

But the spirit is the same - in both cases, doing the extra work is to ensure that the stated result is accurate, NOT to discredit or demean the person who originally stated it.

  What if you are certain you have a certain issue, and will not be persuaded otherwise?

I urge you to rethink this, and open your mind.

You want to heal from whatever it is that is interfering with your best life.

You want answers.

You want validation that such-and-such issue isn’t a personal failing but a neuro-divergency.

Those are great goals, but the best way to find the truth is to be open to explanations that you may not like.

And the only way to know it’s the truth, is to be honest and objective about yourself.

[arcticfox007]

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

This is my first time doing Suptober and I probably won’t do every day (and am already a day late) but I thought it would be a good creativity boost and looking through all the other work it seemed like a lot of fun! Thanks to @winchester-reload for organizing this :)

Check it out on AO3!

Castiel hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation. He was supposed to be on break, but had volunteered to reset room 5 for the next patient because he knew his friend Alex had been in dire need of a break. Cas was only a volunteer, spending his junior year of college shadowing various medical professionals to get a better idea of what a career in medicine would really be like. When Alex had suggested shadowing one of the doctors she worked with, he’d readily agreed, knowing that his friend spoke highly of both Dr. Barnes and Dr. Fitzgerald.

He’d already spent the past few hours shadowing Dr. Fitzgerald (or Garth as he insisted on being called) and had seen enough to realize that Family Medicine was understaffed and struggling to do the best they could for their patients given the absurd constraints on their time. Garth was currently seeing a patient who didn’t want a stranger in the room, so the doctor had told Cas to grab some lunch. Cas had intended to do just that when he saw Alex making frantic phone calls at the front desk. When she’d hung up, she’d looked at the end of her rope, explaining to Can that one of the other nurses called out and she couldn’t find anyone to cover for them.

Which is how Cas ended up in room 5 wiping down the surfaces and pulling a new paper cover over the bed. Cas knew all about patient privacy, but really, the conversation easily carried into the room when the man who must be one of Dr. Barnes patients had decided to continue talking to her out in the hallway. The man had a compelling voice and by the time Cas realized he was eavesdropping it was too late to avoid it as leaving room 5 now would have only made the unsuspecting patient realize he’d been overheard.

“Um, and, I’m really sorry about this doc, but I probably can’t afford the bill for today’s services right away.”

“Dean, just call Meg like I told you. Our pharmacy here is amazing at finding co-pay cards for these types of medications.”

“I will talk to her, I swear. It’s just when we had to switch insurance plans the new one says the co-pay for that grade of medicine is $100 a dose. I’m honestly not sure I can make that work Dr. Barnes.”

“I understand, but you need this medicine Dean. Your RA will flare right back up without it. If that happens you eventually won’t be able to work at all. Even skipping doses is ill-advised, letting the inflammation persist could eventually cause permanent damage to your joints.”

“I get it doc, I do, but $400 a month? It’s basically choosing between eating and my ability to move without pain.”

“Dean, just talk to Meg. We will figure something out. At least promise me you’ll take the Humira every other week. I know it didn’t manage your symptoms well at the lower dose before, but it was still better than letting the RA go untreated.”

Dean must have responded to Dr. Barnes in some way Castiel couldn’t hear, because after a few moments the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading as they moved towards the front desk. Cas hurried out of room 5, the trash bag hanging unnoticed from his wrist. His heartbeat sped up as he worried that he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of “Dean” before he left the office. Cas didn’t really know what he was planning on doing, just that he couldn’t stand the thought of this man resigning himself to pain all because the healthcare industry was such an awful mess that it would burden someone with choosing food over medicine. Something about the way Dean had sounded reminded him so much of his sister, Anna, right before she had left Castiel forever. That feeling drew Cas forward to meet a man he didn’t know. Cas couldn’t solve Dean’s money problems, Cas couldn’t force the government to change how healthcare was run in the country, Cas couldn’t even make Dean’s medical issues any better – but he could meet this man and maybe make him smile for a moment. Maybe, if he was brave enough, he could offer him some sort of friendship so maybe he would have one more person to help him through his struggles. Cas had been too young to understand how alone Anna must have felt but he knew more about it now. Helping people like Anna was what had drawn Cas to medicine in the first place.

Turning the corner Cas was startled to see what could only be a 6-foot flannel-wearing freckled god. The man was Hollywood beautiful and for a moment Cas forgot what had brought him rushing around the corner in the first place. The sound of Alex pointedly snapping her fingers brought Castiel back to reality as he broke of his inappropriate staring. He felt his skin heat up rapidly as he blushed.

“Did you finish room 5, Castiel?” Alex stared at him expectantly. Silently, Cas handed over the trash bag and muttered something about taking his lunch break outside. Too embarrassed by his very obvious admiration of the man that must have been Dean, Cas didn’t think he could talk to him in front of Alex. He rushed out the front door in the hopes that the autumn air would help him pull himself together. He didn’t know why he’d felt so compelled to talk to a man who’s private and very personal conversation he’d overheard. He was almost glad that his humiliating gawking had saved him from speaking to the guy. After all, what would he have said anyway? The air alone wasn’t helping Castiel’s composure, so he began pacing in front of the building.

“I mean how do you go up to a stranger and tell them they aren’t alone and that good things do happen? It’s not like it wouldn’t embarrass the guy to know I overheard him talking about his money problems…” Cas froze as he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

“Uh, hey man. I actually came out to ask you something else, but I think this just got awkward.” Cas took a deep breath already knowing it was Dean standing behind him. Cas’ habit of muttering to himself when anxious had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion, but never quite as badly as this felt. Sadly, his fervent wish to turn invisible on the spot was being ignored by the universe and he found himself staring into striking green eyes while wondering how he could possibly salvage this situation.

“H-hello Dean. I’m Castiel, and I can’t apologize enough for overhearing your conversation with Dr. Barnes. I swear it wasn’t intentional, I was cleaning out the room you were standing near and – “

“Whoa, hold up buddy. I’m not mad or anything. I mean, it wouldn’t be my topic of choice to start chatting up the hot new guy at my doctor’s office, but you clearly work in healthcare, I’m sure you’ve heard the same thing from lots of folks.” Cas’ brain froze a bit when Dean referred to him as hot, but then it caught up with what he was actually saying.

“Er, actually I’m just shadowing Dr. Garth for the day, but yes, I have heard stories like yours. My sister, Anna, went through something similar. That’s why I wanted to say something to you but wasn’t sure what. Then I actually saw you and, well, you saw. I’m not really good with subtlety. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.” Dean threw his head back with a barking laugh and Cas found himself staring at the beautiful man yet again.

“Having someone like you checking me out definitely doesn’t make me uncomfortable. If it makes you feel better, I came out hoping to ask if you’d be interested in going to the Harvest Festival tonight. I have to work for a bit at my store’s booth but if you were free around 7, I’d love to talk with you more. Even if it’s just whatever you wanted to talk to me about before.” Dean smiled flirtatiously at Cas, and there was no way to resist that.

“Yes, I’d love to! Where should I meet you?”

They exchanged information quickly, and parted ways with matching smiles. Cas would get his chance to tell Dean how his sister gave up her fight with cancer because she knew her treatments were bankrupting the family. He’d tell him how he’d was hoping to be a doctor himself one day to maybe help someone else like Anna win their fight despite the shitty healthcare system. He’d also tell Dean that he’d chased him down the hall because he’d desperately wanted to tell him that maybe they were strangers, but that he hoped Dean didn’t give up and that he’d be willing to be there for him if having a friend would help.

Now though, Cas thought maybe he’d already made Dean’s day a bit brighter, and he looked forward to getting to know the handsome man better. Maybe his impulse to offer his friendship to a stranger wasn’t as insane as it first seemed, and if Castiel was reading things right perhaps friendship wasn’t the only thing they had to offer one another.

[bonny-kookoo]

Lavender Love (JJK x Reader) 💐💜🔞

🦋 Pairing: Florist!Jeon Jungkook x Mute!Reader

🦋 Genre: Florist!AU, Fluff, Strangers to Lovers AU, smut

• Selective mutism : a severe anxiety disorder where a person is unable to speak in certain social situations, such as with classmates at school or to relatives they do not see very often. It usually starts during childhood and, if left untreated, can persist into adulthood.

🦋 Warnings: mentions of past trauma (no mentions of what exactly), anxiety attack, it’s not romanticized in this so it’s no ‘hero in shining armor knows what to do’ kinda thing, mentions of vomiting and overall just a very uncomfortable situation, Jungkook is actually kinda lost, mutual pining, awkward reader, very very VERY soft smut, like Jesus Christ it’s so sweet, mentions of therapy, hopeless romantic kook, he researched so much just so he can help :(, protective Kook!

🦋 Summary: words only hurt people around you, so when you meet this kind florist while picking up your friends order, you swear to yourself to never speak a word to him. He however, seems to have different plans.

(Again, I want to point out that anxiety attacks are a real thing, and hardly ever ‘just pass’. If you’re uncomfortable with these things, please skip this fic as it is a major part of the story. Everyone experiences these things differently, things depicted in this are personal experiences. If you think you have problems like this, please seek professional help. You’re not broken, you maybe just need a little hand to guide you back on track. Stay safe everyone 💕)

This is a oneshot! If you have any asks, Ideas, or drabble requests for this universe, throw them my way!

You don't remember the last word you spoke to a stranger.

It's probably hidden somewhere, and you'd find it if you really searched for it, however, you didn't really crave to be remembered about what happened afterwards. It didn't matter these days anyways.

You don't remember your school days.

Again, these memories are there, you know it. Yet you've turned them around like a picture hanging on a wall, neatly framing an incident that scarred you to the point of seemingly no return. It didn't matter these days anyways.

You pull your facemask a bit as you waited at the red light, folded paper in your hand, which was hidden in the front pocket of your sweater. People around you didn't really look at you, not caring, and you favored it greatly. You felt your fingers get clammy however, the closer you got to the corner store. Hopefully Miss Jung was there; she knew your mother, and didn't really mention your habit of silence much. Hopefully.

But the closer you got, the more you felt your skin grow cold.

That was not miss Jung.

You desperately wanted to text Yoongi, telling him that you couldn't pick up his order, but he was sick, he needed someone to do it, and you knew you could do it- you had to start somewhere. Your therapist had praised you last month so greatly, telling you how good you were getting at conversing, even if it was just through text or post it notes- it was more than you did a few years ago. But your feet slowed down, hands beginning to shake. You stood against the wall near the entrance, evening out your breathing as you tried to ground yourself again.

You could do this.

Entering the store, familiar bell ringing, you felt a bit more calm as the scent of the various flowers filled your nose. You'd often stayed under the counter when Miss Jung had been working when you were young, her presence calming to you as she didn't care about your 'issues' as others had called it. She always let you make flower crowns and tiny rings, showing you what every one of them meant, uncaring that you never answered her. She always said your smile was enough.

"Hello! How can I help you?" He asked in a friendly manner. His voice was melodic, probably nice to listen to whenever he talked away, making you slightly jealous. Your own was weak, fragile from lack of use. He smiled at you as you hesitantly walked forwards, unfolding the note Yoongi had written and placing it down in front of him, making him pick it up, reading it. "Oh? Lazy gramps can't pick them up himself?" He chuckled, and you wanted to disagree, yet you stopped the thought while it formed. "Ah, I'll get them for you, but are you sure you can carry them all yourself? There's multiple boxes, and eh-" He began, grinning before picking at his skin on his jaw. "-not to be mean but you're kinda short." He said, and your eyes widened. You shook your head, and he leaned his to the side. "No? No what?" He asked, and you began to grow uncomfortable. Your gaze shifted towards the note, pointing towards it, then at yourself, before you nodded. "I eh.." He trailed off, before he smiled encouragingly. "Ah, you're shy? Don't be, I don't bite!" He playfully said, and you could feel the tears prick at the backs of your eyes.

It was unfair really. You wished you could be more open, tell him all you wanted to say, be just as confident as he was being- yet here you were, confusing the guy to no ends just because you couldn't open your mouth. It was pathetic, really, and before you knew you felt the tears gather. You were growing frustrated, hands growing clammy as you tightened them into fists, breathing becoming uneven as you desperately tried to calm yourself. "Ah- you're okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" He tried, hand on your shoulder not helping one bit. He was now confused, maybe even scared, and it was your fault. Why were you being so difficult? Why couldn't you just tell him like every other normal person could? Oh yeah, because you weren't. You were absolutely fucked up, useless for society, not even able to work a proper job-

"Y/N?" The voice sounded dull, as if someone held their hands over your ears, the rushing of your own blood drowning out everything else as your hands and feet became rigid, frozen in place by the overflow of oxygen. "Jungkook dear, please give her space- Y/N sweetheart, can you hear me?" You knew she was talking, but her voice wasn't reaching you at all as the tears fell, sobs wrenching your gut to the point of feeling sick. "Oh sweetheart, come on, quick-" She hurried, unnoticed by you helping your locked body outside through the backdoor with Jungkooks help, who had a worried look on his face as he watched the scene unfold. "Jungkook dear, can you get me a bucket real quick?" He nodded, dashing off to clumsily get a small water bucket, cursing as he knocks down several others, glad that there wasn't another costumer. He got back just in time for Miss Jung to manage to hold the purple plastic container underneath your face as your body shook, bringing back up whatever you'd eaten in its absolute frenzy. "Shh, its okay.." She hummed, before addressing the boy again. "Can you cut some lavender please? A branch should be enough." She asked, as he nodded again, eyes barely leaving your figure. Was that his fault? What did he do wrong? "Jungkook." Miss Jung said to knock him back to reality, as he nodded, walking towards the several flowers as he took out the gardening scissors from his apron, cutting two small branches instead of one for good measure.

When he walked back outside the backdoor, you'd already laid on your side, Miss Jung carefully running her hand over your back as you seemed to still have issues breathing properly, sobs still present as you choked on air. He wordlessly gave his boss what she'd asked for, as he watched her rub the flowers between her hands, the scent filling your nose slowly. It helped after a moment, slowly calming your senses back down, exchanging your now returning sense of hearing and vision with a raging headache. "I'm so sorry I-" He began, but miss Jung sent him a look, shaking her head. She'd just managed to bring you back, she didn't need to throw you back into the circle again.

"Jungkook, can you go help the costumers please?" She asked as she heard the bell, and he hesitantly nodded, before returning.

Well, this ended well.

The next day, Yoongi had you by his side as he stepped inside the flower shop. "Hel- Ah! You!" Jungkook exclaimed, making you shrink in on yourself, readying yourself for whatever he had to say. Yoongi however, voice raspy from his cold, cut him off.

"Yah you idiot, can you ever just do what you're told?" He exclaimed, as Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, fluffy hair falling a bit to the side from the movement. "You got my shit?" He asked, and you gently pulled at his sleeve, a sign that he should at least stop cursing. "Sorry." He mumbled down to you as Jungkook watched the silent exchange with interest. Yoongi coughed, snapping the younger boy back to his senses as he walked to the back, coming back with two boxes. "Thanks." Yoongi simply answered, holding both boxes even though he could see the question in your eyes. You both got ready to leave, as Jungkook stopped you.

"Wait!" He said, rummaging around underneath the counter before he pulled out a tiny envelope, wrapped with a purple ribbon, holding it out to you. "As uhm.. a sorry. For yesterday. I didn't know." He offered, and you took it, nodding. So now he knew. Great. He simply waved, as Yoongi bumped you with his elbow, signaling you to go.

In the car, the older boy suddenly sniffed. "Did he pack the wrong flowers or why does it smell so much like lavender?" He asked, and you shrugged, before remembering the gift. Opening the ribbon, you found a small sheer bag, dried seeds of lavender inside, as well as a note.

'Miss Jung said, writing is easier. So if I didn't screw up yesterday, text me? :) '

"That fucker!" Yoongi laughed before coughing again, making you smile a bit. What exactly was that supposed to mean?

It meant exactly what he said. He genuinely started to reach out to you after you'd texted him your number, sending you random pictures of bouquets he did during the day, of scenery he encountered on his way to or off work, memes, or simply asking you how your day was. He slowly found out more and more about you, never really asking why you didn't speak- because the more he began to unravel your personality, the less he cared about that. He found out that you liked sports, you played in a soccer team, and worked as an online tech support from home. He thought of it as absolutely the coolest thing ever, even asking to see a game of yours if you'd let him.

Which had led to this moment.

Jungkook was sitting down, several girls side-eyeing him as they wondered why he was there. His dark attire and several piercings, as well as the ink painting his arm that he'd exposed due to the heat as he'd rolled up the sleeves of his sweater completely covering up the fact that he actually worked with delicate things such as tiny flowers, able to make the best flower crowns of all time. He denied their request to sit with them, texting you instead that he was there, and where he sat. He watched as you read his message before looking up, finding him as he grinned, waving. You meekly waved back, shy smile on your lips as he heard the whispers from his side. He gave them a look to shut them up, before leaning forward, eager to see you in action.

He was mesmerized as he saw you run, every step you took seemingly perfectly timed and placed. You were the shortest one out of your team, but that did not put you at a disadvantage at all it seemed; you ducked under another player trying to push you almost expertly, making him jump up and push his fist into the air in victory as you scored.

When you were done with your game, he'd already walked down the stairs, meeting you as you smiled at his figure, a bit taken aback by his choice of clothing. He always made sure to cover up his tattoos in the flowershop, Miss Jung not too fond of him scaring away costumers who had a more traditional view on things. He held up his hand before lowering it a bit for you to properly hit it in a high five, internally beaming at the fact that you'd slowly grown more comfortable with him. He carried your bag for you, shaking away his stray strands of hair that had fallen into his face from the slight wind. "Ah, here." He remembered, giving you your facemask back, remembering that you always liked to wear it so people thought you were maybe sick and just didn't talk because of that. But after months with him; you didn't need it anymore. So you simply took it from him, putting it into your pocket. His eyes widened a bit but he smiled afterwards, actually growing a bit shy.

And he almost tripped over his own feet as he felt your tiny hand grab his to hold.

"Oh Y/N! Jungkook is already changing. He said you're both going on a date?" Miss Jung winked at you, making you look down shyly, fingers pulling at the hem of your skirt a bit as you nodded. He'd asked you out a few days ago, immediately replying that you could also just stay at his or your place, and that you didn't have to go out. You'd thanked him for it, and you both decided to simply get a shit ton of junk food to take home to his place, planning on watching a short movie and maybe playing some video games after. "I'm happy. He's a good guy, but don't tell him I said that, his ego is too inflated already, that poor boy!" She hummed, as Jungkook whined from behind her.

"Yah, my ego isn't inflated at all, what are you saying?!" He said while pouting, making you chuckle a but under your breath. He smiled, walking up to you as he waved at miss Jung. "Thanks for closing the shop, we'll be on our way then!" He exclaimed, and she just nodded, smile genuine on her lips.

"So!" He said, stretching his arms above his head before he took your hand, walking across the street with you as he led you both to a fast food place close by. "I thought about The Cat Returns tonight?" He asked, and you nodded, happy with his choice. Against the stigma floating around him judged by his attire and collections of tattoos and piercings, Jungkook was actually a huge fan of Studio Ghibli and everything romantic. He was a bit cheesy, but you'd grown to appreciate it- maybe even love it. The more you both conversed and spend time together, the closer you felt yourself getting with him- without forcing yourself to. It just came natural with him, the hand holding not making you feel weird or as if people were staring, his jacket around your shoulders never feeling heavy. Being close to him was comforting, hearing his voice was soothing, being with him was.. like your personal stack of lavender, always ready to calm your nerves.

So when you were walking to his place, apartment still a bit foreign to you since you'd only visited him a handful of times, you didn't feel any pressure. You simply took off your shoes, immediately greeting his two pet rabbits in his living room, crouching down to pet them. "I feel like you only love me for my pets." He explained playfully scandalized, making you grin as you continued to run your hand over the soft fur.

"Alright!" He'd exclaimed as everything was set on the table, his arms on the back of his couch. "Will you stay with them or actually sit down with me? I'm getting lonely." He whined, and you rolled your eyes before you skipped to the couch, stumbling a bit as he chuckled, catching you as you almost fell onto his lap. "Easy there tiger, and here I thought you wanted to take things slow." He laughed, voice low as he turned on the movie, very aware of the blush coating your cheeks.

It started to cover his own soon as well however, as you slowly but surely started to cuddle up to him.

A kiss was what started it. One, then two, and the third deepened the feeling of want. You thought you'd feel pressured, hesitant, shy, or maybe even scared- but you didn't. This was Jungkook. And Jungkook was your safe place.

"Wait.." He hesitantly said, eyes almost shut in a way as if he was hurt, holding your shoulders as he looked at you. "I- I'm sorry, I don't know what came over myself there.." He chuckled, shifting a bit as he suddenly pulled on his sweater to hide his growing erection. He'd never been ashamed of it in the past, but now, it seemed out of place. It felt as if it made him look like he couldn't wait, as if he was impatient, or taking advantage of the situation. You simply took the receipt of the food, turning it around as you clicked the ballpoint pen on his table, writing.

'It's okay. I want to.'

His eyes widened as he got more serious. "You don't have to. I can totally wait." He said, a gentle smile on his lips as he watched you write another line.

'There's no one I'd rather go this far with.'

His heart began to beat heavier, if that made sense. It felt as if every beat was suddenly more meaningful, louder, more present than ever, as he watched you write.

'I'm yours.'

You gently laid the pen down, now looking at him as he smiled, kissing your lips again deeply as the thunderstorm outside raged on, lightning brightening the room for a second as he couldn't seem to stop kissing you. "Thank you." He hummed, before diving in again. "Thank you." He said again, before made you sit on his lap, straddling him as he chuckled in bliss. "I promise I'll take good care of you." He vowed as you'd closed your eyes, simply giving yourself to him as his hands held you safely. "Now, and forever." He whispered, before he stood up, strong arms underneath your bottom as he carried you out of the living room, into his dark bedroom that only occasionally lit up from the lightning outside. The rain hit the window harshly, yet he didn't seem to hear it at all as he let you fall on the mattress back first, chuckling as he almost fell on top of you, making you giggle.

The sound prominent in his ears as he swore he could've cried.

"You sound so beautiful." He hummed against your neck, his words never wiping the smile off of your face as he moved you to lay down properly, clothes slowly loosing purpose as every item slowly met the floor with a soft thud. He praised every curve, every flaw you saw in yourself as he closed his eyes in pure bliss, no need for visual confirmation to know that you were perfect to him. For the first time in forever you felt free, completely safe and guarded as he moved above you, silent gasps and sighs the only thing present as he stood up for a moment, having to search for a condom before he met you on the bed again, giggling like school kids caught doing mischief as he struggled to open the package, making you laugh at him.

He decided he loved that sound.

If someone was to ask him what he thought your voice sounded like, his first reply would genuinely be that he did not care. It wasn't mandatory in what you both had, he'd learned that over the months and months he'd spent with you. Words surely made communication a bit simpler, but he didn't need them to show you his love and adoration for you. It proved his worth way better than words ever could.

Wrapping the safety over his length he kissed you again, seemingly hooked on the simple gesture as he held himself with one hand, the other one guiding him into you, slowly, as to not make it hurt.

He'd never hurt you.

He didn't rush, there was no need to. This wasn't about reaching a goal, a high, or any end of some sorts. He simply relished in being close to you, in the huge amount of trust you gave him willingly, naturally. He felt honored, as cheesy as it sounded, he felt as if there was no bigger achievement in his life than knowing that you gave yourself into his arms simply because you cherished him just as much as he did you. He held you tightly against him as he slowly moved, pace slow and almost lazy as you slightly squirmed and reached around his shoulders, holding him close as well, both of you existing, nothing more.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you, maybe it was the high of his own happiness in knowing that he held your heart, but he soon felt himself grow sensitive, hand reaching between your bodies to roll your pear between his inked fingers, making you mewl underneath him.

He decided he loved that sound as well.

Your back arched as you came undone underneath him, clenching center helping his own release to happen shortly after. He gasped out, catching his breath as he rested his forehead against yours, suddenly laughing as if he was drunk. And he kind of was; drunk on the realization that this had indeed happened, that he actually was here, holding you, having you all for himself. He slipped out of you after a moment, pulling the condom off of himself as he tied it and threw it into the bin close to his bed, before slipping underneath his blankets, holding you close, sighing in gentle comfort as no words were spoken. Until you moved a bit, lips close to his ear, as you whispered.

"I love you."

And he decided, he loved that sound most of them all.

[infinitegalahad]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO (SNEAK PEAK)

Summary: Eugene was always there to let you that you were beautiful.

Warnings: PLEASE!! READ!!! Trigger warnings for eating disorder, insecurity, and lots of angst. But there is going be lots of fluff and some self care from your’s truly!

A/N: it’s time for self coping, my fitness. my eating disorder has been horrible lately and what better what to come then maladaptive daydreaming? not me writing a self insert for my bulimia and eugene roe comforting me because my ex-therapist told me to eat more (which totally solves all my problems)? ha! never. enjoy the little snippet! :D 

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes @ricksmorty @pennyllanne @capsparkyspeirs

Your stomach growled and twisted as you hunched over the toilet, tears spilling from your eyes as you forcefully threw up the mass amount of food you had just eaten. Every bite felt like you were eating copious amounts of a forbidden fruit. It was your favourite, and you used to love eating (y/f/f) all the time-but now, you would barely keep it down.

Soon after eating, the guilt began to overtake your body. It was hard to ignore it as the warm feeling in your throat began to rise. It felt tingly and you had only one remedy on how to make it better-running to the bathroom and sticking a finger down your throat: watching everything come out as deformed and clunky.

Saliva dropped from your noses as you began to wipe it as tears streamed down your flushed face. The pain wasn’t ending, and you knew another round was set to come.

When you're a little girl, you didn’t think much of your body or how you looked. Little girls, or no child for the matter should have had to worry about what they looked like. But as you got older, the social norms and your body began to change. Other girls around you were thin, while you felt indifferent. You were made fun of not looking “thin”, which triggered a whole set of emotions. And so you took comfort in food, since it was the only thing that never judged you.

And yet food would soon become your enemy. You learned how to befriend, and also stab it in the back. Your relationship with food has formed into a minute where you could tolerate them, and then the other you had to get it out of your system. After eating meals, it became a habit for you to do so. Some days, you could tolerate being around it. Others, you would barely see if for days-if not weeks.

Your thoughts were overtaken by a large gulp in your throat, which resulted in the food you had binged coming out. Tears came from your eyes as you cried. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just be normal and pretty? Why was life so unfair to you?

You are so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice the bathroom door creak open and footsteps slowly approach your hunched figure. The pattern of the footsteps was already too familiar to you. Goosebumps went up your spine as you refused to look at him, embarrassed and guilted. Eugene was the last person you wanted to discover your monstrosity.

“Hey…” You managed to say, attempting to sound put together, which was the total opposite of what you currently where.

Eugene sunk down to your level and placed a hand on your back, rubbing small circles. Tears began to form at your eyes as you looked down, feeling it come again. Eugene grabbed your hair as you threw up, letting out a pained moan.

“I’m here, you’re okay,” Eugene cooed, letting you finish up. His soft accent was reassuring to you, but your heart rate increased. “Did it happen again?”

“Nothing is happening. I’m fine.” You lied, but knew that it was a shit lie and that Eugene was smart enough to see. He was your boyfriend and knew you better than anybody else did in the world-besides you.

“You’re not fine. Don’t lie to me, cher.”

You slowly move your head up to look at him. Eugene looks tired, and so do you. Your eyes are puffy from crying, cheeks red, lips quivering, goosebumps all over your skin, heavy breathing- a total mess. A pig is what you would refer to yourself as. The outfit you had worn today was too tight forming and showed off the parts of your body that you wanted the world not to see. You looked like a ugly rat in your eyes, the vision of a disfigured body clouding your vision.

Instead of using your words, you break down once again. Eugene is there to watch you, pulling you into him as you sob uncontrollably. You act like a child to its mother, clasping into Eugene for dear life as you stain his white shirt with tears. He doesn’t mind this since he loves you, and you know that. But how could he, someone so beautiful on the inside and out, be with someone like you-a slob? Eugene didn’t see you as any of the things you would describe yourself as, and you still couldn’t understand why he has chosen to stick around for four years (and counting).

“I’m sorry,” Is all you could cough through your tears. Eugene is running his hands up and down back, his fingers occasionally getting tangled in your hair as he straightens it out. He pulls you from his chest as he cups your face, tenderly pushing your loose hair behind your shoulders to get a better view of your pretty face.

Eugene caresses your cheeks, getting a feel of your soft (y/s/c). “No need to be. Jus’ wanna make sure your ok.”

“I’m not. I…” Letting out a frustrated sigh, the waterworks come back into play. Eugene, being the angel he is, stays quiet as his thumbs wipe the tears away. Gathering your words, you continue on, “I never have been. Look at me, I can’t control it. I don’t know what to do. I-“

“Hey, hey, hey. Your heart’s racin’, settle down.” Eugene reassured in a calming voice not to shut you up, but to calm you. Your skin is shaky and sweaty and your heart is banging against your ribcage. Eugene feels the guilt tug at his heart-he hates to see you in such a distressed state. “Let me help you. Here,”

Eugene slides his arms under your armpits and gently helps your up. Leading you to the living room, he places you on the couch as he runs to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water. He drops it out and pats you on the head before running back to the kitchen. You don’t want to drink, but Eugene would have a hissy fit if you didn’t. Reluctantly, you take a sip and swish it in your mouth before slowly gulping it.

Eugene returns a minute later with a cup of tea in his hand. He places in on the counter, putting a coaster under. Looking down, you can smell the sweetness. It’s your favourite; an orange spice with a dab of honey.

“Drink up ‘dat wata’ before you drink the tea. You’ll fell more refreshed after, and the tea will help with the dryness in your throat,” Eugene explained. He admired you as he placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing circles into them. As you drank your water, you forced a smile and put your hand on top of yours.

“Angé, I’m worried ‘bout you,” Eugene confessed, “You look sad, and when you’re sad-I’m sad.”

“Genie, please,” Is all you could mutter to say. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been dealing with this all my life. It’ll go away in a few hours, and I’ll be all smiles again. I promise.”

Eugene still feels guilty. He’s been around sister’s, older and younger to know what your problem is. The vomiting, the excuses, the insecurity, everything was adding up. What had saddened Eugene is that it was a lifelong issue, and it had gone untreated, and had progressively gotten worse.

“I don’t need you to force yourself to be happy. I want to help you ‘cause I love you, ma douce beauté.”

“But-“

Eugene placed a sweet kiss into your hair, “No. You stay ‘ere, docter’s orders. I’ll be right back.”

“Eugene-“

As he began to walk away, he turned around with a smile and pointed fingers. “What did I say?”

You put a finger down in defeat as you laid back, sipping on your tea. Hearing his footsteps fade into the bathroom and the water running, the tension from your shoulders disappeared as the sweet honey in the tea eased the frustration in your body. Doctor's orders, after all.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 9

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,720ish

Summary: You start to question Steve.

I do not own Marvel or Grey’s Anatomy.

Something at been bother you about Steve, as of late. When you two would spend the night together, it was always at your place. And you were starting to realize that he knew more about you than you did him. (Though he still didn’t know about your parents.) You sat on your bed and watched as Steve got ready for the day. He was brushing his teeth when you finally spoke up.

“Let’s sleep at your place tonight,” you said.

“What?” Steve questioned. His brow furrowed as he faced you, tooth brush still in his mouth.

“I mean, why are we always sleeping at my house? Do you even have one?”

He spit into the sink. “One what?”

“A house. Or an apartment. With a closet and your stuff in it. Your personal stuff. Do you even have on of those.”

“Mmm,” he hummed with a nod, wiping his face. “You hungry?” He gathered his things as he headed towards the door. 

“Steve, do you even—“ 

But he was gone, leaving you on the bed, sighing. After freshening up for the day, you went down to the kitchen. Steve was sitting at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him, with your roommates scattered around the kitchen.

“You know, I like it here,” Steve told you when he noticed you. “You sad so yourself, you like having your things around, sleeping in your own bed.”

“You’re like a health nut, aren’t you?” Clint questioned Steve as he examined his cereal. “You eat muesli every morning.”

“No,” Steve argued, mouth full, “I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Val said. “Well, at least for the last seven days.”

“Oh, come on. I haven’t been here for a whole week… have I?”

“Sadly, you have,” Scott said.

“See?” You pointed to your roommates. “Even they think it’s weird.”

~~~

Eventually, your work day started and you were going through the motions of everything. Steve met up with you as you walked through the halls. And you couldn’t help but continue what you were talking about this morning.

“It’s just that I hardly know anything about you,” you said.

“You know that I just moved here. You know that I like ferry boats.”

“Yes, but where exactly did you move here from? And what about your friends? Or family? Do you have any?”

“I’m a surgeon. I don’t have friends. And I don’t have family anymore either.”

“See, I didn’t know that. And everybody has friends. What do you do on your days off? These are all important questions.”

“Ah, important for who?”

“Me. We’re having sex every night. I think I deserve details.”

“You have more details than most,” he smirked.

“See, this is going somewhere weird. I want facts, and until I get them, my pants are staying on.”

“Or you could just roll with it. Be flexible. See what happens.”

“I’m not flexible.”

Steve laughed. “There is where I disagree.” He winked, before getting paged. He looked down at it. “I've got to go. We'll find these things out.” He slowly started walking away. “That's the fun part. You know? That's the gravy.”

“That is what I'm talking about. I don't want to be your gravy.”

“Gravy?” Tony questioned, walking up from behind. “What about gravy? And why are you two flirting in public?”

“We weren’t flirting. We were—“

“Flirting. Stop lying to me and yourself.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Mhmm. I know lying, and flirting, when I see it. And you, my dear, are doing both.”

“Shut up.”

~~~

An equally fortunate and unfortunate thing, you were assigned to Steve’s service today. You were currently looking at a patient’s scans. The patient was slowly becoming paralyzed, and you were trying to figure out why.

“See, this,” you pointed to the scans. “The guy's films are clear. There's no reason I can see for his creeping paralysis.”

“It's just so surprising,” Steve responded, still studying the scans. “I expected an intrusion into the spinal space or bony spur in the nucleus pulposus.”

“Well, you were wrong. You don't always get what you expect, do you?”

With furrowed brows, he turned to face you. “What is your problem?”

“Give me something to go on. Anything. What are your grandparents' names?”

“I don't have grandparents.”

“Where'd you grow up? What's your favorite flavor of ice cream? Where'd you spend your summer vacations?”

“Lighten up. It'll be good for your blood pressure.” 

Steve walked out of the room. You followed him, but stopped at the doorway.

“Oh, don’t you tell me to lighten up!” You called after him. “I’ll lighten up when I… feel light.” You huffed and shook your head. “That man.”

~~~

Steve was speaking to your patient, Mr. Wells, and his wife when you went to check on Mr. Wells.

“Any changes, Mr. Wells?” Steve wondered.

“I can’t move my legs at all now,” Mr. Wells replied.

“He said he was moving his legs when he came in,” Mrs. Wells said. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Have you been under any stress lately, Mr. Wells?” You questioned.

“You know what’s making me stressed? Is being in here and not being able to move,” he responded.

“Dr. L/N,” Steve called, waiting you to clarify.

“Emotional trauma can be converted into something physical, right?” You asked.

“Yes, it’s possible.”

“Like hysterical numbness or paralysis. Maybe there is no physiological reason, and he's just having a conversion reaction.”

“You think it's psychosomatic?”

The curtain behind you and Steve flew open, revealing another patient and Val.

“It’s not in your head, man,” the patient said. “I believe you.”

“Mr. Duff, please,” Val said, closing the curtain.

“Who was that?” Steve asked.

“Psych sent him down,” you explained, having heard Val complain earlier. “He has visions.”

“Is that it?” Mr. Wells wondered. “Am I cray?”

“No. No,” Steve quickly said. “I'm gonna order a higher-level MRI. We're gonna figure this out.”

~~~

At lunch time, Peter, Natasha, Scott, Clint, Val, and yourself found a small room to eat in, away from everyone else. Natasha was sitting down at a desk. She lifted up her sandwich, smelling it, before quickly dropping it.

“If that’s turkey, can I have some?” Clint asked.

“It’s soggy,” Natasha responded.

“If it’ll kill you,” Peter commented. “Solve everything.”

“I coulda gotten that intubation,” Clint murmured. “I am good at intubations.”

You took a bite of your food, cringing at the smell. “Why does everything in a hospital smell like a hospital?” You questioned.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Clint,” Scott said. “Everybody makes mistakes.”

“You know, I’m good at a lot of things,” Clint continued.

“You know what, I'm gonna tell you something,” Natasha began, “Hey, Clint. You need to get laid. See that nurse over there.” Natasha pointed to the nurse at the station out the window. “She’s single. She's got brown hair. Go ask her out.”

“In case you forgot, I intubated an esophagus.”

“Dude, you're tweaking,” Peter said. “Maybe you should go see that psychic.”

“Mr. Duff is not a psychic!” Val exclaimed as Peter left the room.

“I am trying to help you,” Natasha told Clint, standing up. “Go buy her a latte and freshen up your gonads, please.” Then she left.

“What’s with her?” Val asked, looking at you for an answer.

You shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”

~~~

After lunch, you headed back to check on Mr. Wells. Steve was already in there again, looking extremely concerned. 

“First my legs, then my stomach,” Mr. Wells complained before looking scared. “Doc! Doc, my hands can’t move.”

“Squeeze my fingers,” Steve ordered, placing his fingers in Mr. Wells’ hand. 

“I can’t.”

“Right here.” Steve tried the other hand. “No? Let me know if you feel this.” He poked the patient with a needle. “How about that?” 

“No,” Mr. Wells responded.

Steve tried several different places before giving up. “Alright. I’ll be right back.” He headed to the nurses station, motioning for you to follow him. “Nurse, cancel the second MRI. Call down and prep an OR stat.”

“You’re operating?” You questioned. “On what? If there was something to fix, wouldn't we have seen it?”

“I think the MRI missed a clot somewhere in his upper spine. I'm gonna cut him open. I'm going in.”

“What if you're wrong? Couldn't unnecessary spinal surgery do more damage?”

“If we wait any longer and this expands into his brain stem, we have a paralyzed man who can't breathe. I'm trusting my instincts. Sometimes you've got to take a chance to save a life.”

~~~

The OR was stressful, even before Steve cut Mr. Wells open.

“We've got to save this cord,” Steve stated, grabbing a scalpel. “This guy's built like the Rock of Gibraltar.”

“You want me to start?” You wondered.

“No, I'm gonna to cut here from the base of the neck to the rib cage.” Steve pointed, showing you exactly what he meant. “I want you to hit the bleeders.”

“I still don't think we should be doing this,” you expressed your concerns as Steve cut open. You immediately started going for the bleeders.

“This guy has a spinal hematoma.”

“We don't know that.”

“Which left untreated are almost always fatal.”

“You're cutting blind. Whatever happened to being practical?”

“I need to see more here. Retractor.” A nurse handed Steve a retractor.

“Wow,” you gasped, staring at Mr. Wells’ spine. 

“There’s no ‘wow’ in practical’.” You could practically hear Steve’s smirk.

After everything was clear, you and Steve began looking at the spine closely.

“Third thoracic laminae. Nothing,” you said. “I think I see the dura pulsating here.”

“No, it's not,” Steve responded. “Keep looking.”

“We have been at this for four hours. Maybe he just injured his spinal cord and there's nothing to fix.”

“L/N, when you read your books, make sure you reference them correctly. Progressive paralysis implies a pressure lesion.”

“My books got me here—“ You were interrupted by the monitors beeping.

“Pressure’s up to 180/111,” a nurse informed. “The pulse is in the 40s.”

“What is it?”

“I’m pushing 70 milligrams diazoxide.”

“Okay. Autonomic dysreflexia,” Steve said.

“Damage to the sympathetic nervous system?” You asked.

“BP and the heart rate are unstable.”

“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

“We’ve got to find the clot.”

“I can see the cord below the dura. Is he gonna stroke out?”

“Focus, L/N. We're gonna find the clot. It's there. Clean up, please.”

“BP's still up,” the nurse reminded. “Heart rate's at 44.”

“Get on those bleeders,” Steve ordered. “Keep looking, Dr. L/N.”

After a few long minutes later, Steve let out a happy sigh.

“What is it?” You asked.

“See for yourself,” he replied, moving his hand. “The second thoracic vertebrae.”

You leaned in, seeing the clot clearly. “Oh, my gosh. I see it. It’s really there.”

“Of course it is. Let's suction and pack this baby, shall we?”

The rest of the surgery was finished quickly and without any more problems. Soon, you and Steve were in the scrub room outside the OR.

“You were right,” you admitted. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“I think so,” Steve responded.

“But you don’t know that.”

“I know we stopped the paralysis from advancing.”

“But, you don't know if the paralysis he already has will be permanent.”

“No.”

“You know, you keep taking everything on faith. How do you know what's real and what's not?”

“You just do. You know some people would call this a relationship. The kind where you exchange keys, leave your toothbrush over.”

“Who? Who would call it that?”

“Me. I would.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then show me something. Give me a reason to believe.”

With a small, teasing smile, Steve left the room.

~~~

Your group of interns had once again found yourselves in the deserted hallway.

“I tried to talk Rogers out of that clot surgery,” you said quietly. “What is wrong with me?”

“So, basically, you tried to kill the guy,” Peter stated.

“Basically, you’re an ass,” Natasha retorted.

“Come on. You know you want it.”

Clint came walking in. “This, uh, is Clint,” he said, pointing to his name tag. “And Clint has a hot date.”

“Oh, that’s great, Clint,” you responded with a smile.

“Yeah.”

“Left pocket of my lab coat, Clint,” Peter said, going to leave. “No glove, no love.” 

Clint grabbed Peter’s arm before he could fully leave. He took a condom from his pocket.

“My psychic had his surgery,” Val stated.

“Yeah?” Clint wondered.

“I wonder what happened with his… gift.”

“Come on,” Natasha scoffed. “We all know he’s crazy.”

“Thought you said you didn’t believe in that stuff,” you added.

"I grew up in a trailer park,” Val explained. “I waited tables, which was supposed to put me through college, but my mother was always calling these psychics all the time. And the bills started piling up, so I had to use my money to pay them. When I turned 18, I left and never went back. But this guy has been saying things to me, things he couldn't possibly know anything about. So I just wonder.”

~~~

“Do you have sensation anywhere else?” You asked Mr. Wells as you examined him.

“Some feeling in my stomach and feet, I guess,” he responded.

“Bladder and bowels?”

“Not so good still.”

“He said the pressure stockings help relieve clots and bed sores?” Mrs. Wells wondered.

“They do,” you agreed.

“I wanted to thank you for everything,” Mr. Wells said. “Believing in me, that I wasn't making it up.”

“Well, I'll come back tomorrow, then.”

“Hey, I wanted to show you something. I wasn't sure it would last but now look.” He barely moved one of his fingers. “I know it's hardly anything, but…”

“No, it’s something,” you smiled. “It's something really big. I’ll make sure Dr. Rogers knows and I’ll see you both in the morning.”

~~~

Steve met you in the lobby and led you to his car. He opened the door for you before hurrying over to the other side, getting in, and starting the car. Driving, you quickly noticed that Steve wasn’t taking you to your house.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“Trust me,” he replied, glancing at you.

You bit your lip and nodded, turning to look out the window as the city flew by. Before you knew it, you guys had crossed into New Jersey and heading into the more suburban area of it. Steve stopped in front of a piece of land with no house on it. The whole piece of empty land had to be at least 20 acres, with groups of trees scattered around it. Helping you out of the car, Steve began leading you towards the trees.

“Are you going to murder me and bury my body here?” You asked.

“No,” Steve chuckled. “Of course not.”

“Where are we?”

“Shh, shh. I’m going to tell you.”

Steve led you around the corner, revealing an airstream trailer with a small porch. It was almost magical, sitting in the midst of all those trees.

“Alright,” Steve breathed out, nervously. 

He let go of your hand and moved to sit on the edge of the porch. You stayed where you were at, taking everything in.

“My mother’s name was Sarah, my dad’s was Joseph,” Steve stated. “They both died before I graduated high school. I don’t have any siblings. I like Neapolitan ice cream and just a plain beer. I like to work out and I’ve recently started fly fishing. I also cheat when I do the crossword puzzle on Sundays. I never dance in public, even at dances. But only cause I don’t know how. My favorite type of music from the early decades of the 1900’s. My favorite color is blue, like from the American flag. And I live in this trailer. All this land is mine. I have no idea what I’m gonna do with it. So… well, that’s it. That’s all you’ve earned for now. The rest you’re just… just gonna have to take on faith.”

Not revealing an emotions, you walked to the trailer, studying it. Steve stood up, carefully watching you. Walking towards the door, you turned back around with a small smile and reached your hand out to him.

“Show me how this faith thing works,” you whispered. “Please.”

next chapter >

Sorry if it’s all over the place. I owed it to you guys to get this out there.

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