#given that he’s almost always wrong with the first diagnosis

[jvaleskaapologist]

Just started watching House and this is my initial impression:

House: this disgusting person is sick and this is the disease they have *something rare and strange*

Cameron: I trust House’s diagnoses! But also no it’s probably an autoimmune disease…

Chase: nope it’s drugs/alcholol

Foreman: no it’s a neurological problem

Wilson: it’s probably cancer

(It is none of the above)

*they do tests and rule out House’s initial theory*

House: damn i was wrong. so it’s probably this instead *something just as rare and strange* and we need to do *something dangerous and unethical* to treat it

Literally everyone: no that’s stupid and dangerous it’s probably just this *common thing with less dangerous treatments* so we’re gonna treat the patient for that instead of what u said to do

The patient: *is dying from incorrect/lack of treatment*

House: *does something crazy unethical and dangerous to save the patient’s life and ends up being correct*

Literally everyone: wow who knew House would figure something like that out even though he literally does this every week. That’s crazy lol anyways I’m gonna go on not believing him again next week bc he’s a Vicodin junkie and crazy 🤪🤪

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Can you tell me what hurts? - John Marino

Word Count - 5.5 K

Summary - Always struggling with having a abnormal menstrual cycle, and doctors not seeming to care. It sort of became the norm for you to just not really know what's going on with your body. After meeting John, you were worried if he would get scared with how sick you really got so often and run. Or would he be the one to stick around and try to help you figure out what's wrong?

Warnings - mentions of shitty doctors, a mental breakdown, some minor fighting, mentions of blood but I feel like that's a given, PCOS diagnosis

Author's Note - Thank you for always supporting me. I literally wrote finished this segment today because well life. If you have read the other segments of the 'Let me love you' series then you will know that this one is written in a different style. PCOS is one of those things that affects many different parts of life and so this segment does have more time jumps then I normally write. I just really wanted to do a good job of presenting PCOS as a whole, and not only one part.

let me love you masterlist. main masterlist.

Not having a regular menstrual cycle wasn’t something new to you. Never once in your entire life have you ever had a regular period. Fighting with doctors off and on until you ran out of willpower to try to figure out what was wrong with you. Why were you on birth control since you were a freshman in high school? Why was it if you let your body get off the medication you wouldn’t have a period for an entire year? Why would the pain from your natural period put you in the fetal position on your coach? Why was it so hard to lose weight compared to others? Why did you grow body hair three times as fast as others? And why did no one else seem to give a fuck to run the proper tests? 

Fighting with doctors since you were fifteen you ran out of willpower to fight, what was the point. Both of you knew that you had PCOS but they were too scared to diagnose someone so young with it. They didn’t want to have to tell a 19 year old at the time that you might struggle to have kids one day. So you did what you were told, you took birth control and every year like clockwork when your body becomes used to the drug, and your period wouldn’t stop for a month you would change your medicine and start the endless cycle over again.

Meeting John in your mid-20’s, he had no idea that you struggled almost fighting your body every month. Even if you didn’t have your period you still had the side effects of birth control.  Whether in pain from the medicine or crying out of frustration that you were deemed to take a pill for the rest of your life and no one seemed to care to figure out what was actually wrong with you. John still doesn’t know that your body seems to hate you not being able to regulate your own period. Both of you have only been seeing each other for about 6 months. He knew you were on the pill, and you both have been tested and have been having unprotected sex. But he doesn’t know that about once a year your body becomes a crime scene constantly covered in blood, not being able to have a maxi pad on for more than 30 minutes at a time. Although your body doesn’t seem to have any routine, the one thing it has down is when your body becomes used to the brand of birth control you’re on. Every November, your period came and it didn’t stop until after labor day, sometimes the first week of October depending when it came. As each day passed your stomach started to hurt more and more not sure if it was cramps warning you of what’s coming, or your one anxiety in the fact you were about to enter a month of hell and possibly a few ER trips before you could get in to your gynecologist.  

Sadly it was the first as you went to the bathroom to find that your period had indeed started. Sighing to yourself you reached under your sink and grabbed out a maxi pad and put it on. After you’re done using the bathroom, you go to the kitchen and grab some Advil and take 3 hoping it does something to ease the pain you felt. Cursing to yourself as you remembered that you had a date planned with John tonight to go to the movies. No longer feeling like leaving your apartment you decide to call him to cancel, and of course he picks up on the first ring. 

“Hey baby I was just about to leave my place.” sounding rushed. 

“Yeah about that..” taking a deep breath, feeling terrible about canceling but knowing that if you forced yourself to do too much now no way would you be able to last your usual month of hell. 

Johnny softly asks “What’s wrong y/n/n” it’s clear in his voice that his own anxieties are rising and you officially feel like a piece of shit girlfriend for canceling so last minute and not being able to be one of those girls who can just push through having their period. 

Closing your eyes as tight as they go, and gripping your uterus with your free hand you sigh loudly on the phone. “Johnny.” barely above a whisper. “I don’t feel so good.” trying to get the message across that you feel like absolute shit without having to tell him that your period from hell has arrived. 

“Are you sick honey? Do you need me to pick something up from the pharmacy? Can you tell me what hurts? So I can get the right medicine baby.” It’s easy to hear the shuffling in the background, knowing that he is probably slipping on his shoes now to leave. 

“It’s not that kind of sick Johnny.” you shyly admit. “I’m just on my period.” you whisper as you hear Johnny no longer making any sounds on the phone. 

“Okay well, I am still coming over.” he decided.

“Johnny you don’t have-” 

“No, I planned to go to the movies with my girl, so the movies will just have to come to her place instead. Are you craving anything baby? I can stop at the grocery store, do you need anything? I read somewhere once that a heating pad helps. Do you have one?” firing off his questions in seconds, it was sweet but overwhelming a little having someone care so much. 

“I don’t have any cravings, get whatever you want and yes I have a heating pad, but it’s too far away and I’m being lazy.” you softly chuckle your confession. 

“I can instacart snacks I’ll come straight over.” Suddenly you hear the door to his car close. “And before you protest you are in pain Y/N and you won’t grab your own heating pad that will help you so I will.” He hangs up the phone before you can even open your mouth. John spends the night with you, showering you with love, he does make faces of discomfort when you make a face that you're in pain. But he doesn’t say anything, you told him you're fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Which it wasn’t for you when you got your period. John was so sweet and caring the entire night it really did make you like him even more than you already did. Maybe even fall a little more in love with him, even though it was too early in your relationship to say the “L” word. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks have gone by and your period hasn’t lighted up, if anything it has only gotten worse.  Thankfully Johnny has been very involved with hockey the past two weeks that when you are together, you're at least able to hide the frequent trips to the bathroom, or popping Advil like it’s candy. But tonight John asked to spend the night and as much as you missed your boyfriend you really didn’t wanna admit to him that you’ve been sleeping with a towel under you because you don’t want to ruin another pair of expensive sheets or worse get a stain on your mattress. When you tried to make excuses that you had an early morning tomorrow, he said he didn’t mind waking up with you. When you tried to say that your apartment was messy, he said it couldn’t be as bad as last week when he went to Luke’s apartment since Jack has been in Michigan recovering from shoulder surgery. When you said you didn’t have any food in the house, he asked when that’s stopped you both before from ordering in, and that he will wake up even earlier to go to your favorite bakery tomorrow. Honestly you couldn’t think of any more excuses so you reductively decided to let him come spend the night with you. 

As soon as you got home from work, you took a much needed shower and changed into some sweats. Deciding to attempt to clean your much neglected kitchen since you have been feeling like absolute shit. Starting with the dishes you loaded the dishwasher, and cleaned by hand all your pans. Wiping down all the counters, and doing a quick mop of the small kitchen floor you started to feel better. 

Just as you were dropping the water into the sink and putting the mop away, John buzzes to get into your building. Walking over and letting him up, you speak into the mic to let him know your door is open. Deciding that you're suddenly feeling lightheaded probably because your iron levels are starting to be affected. Trying to make it to the coach, you almost make it when John walks in locking the door behind him. 

“Hey I went ahead and picked up-” stopping mid-sentence when he notices you sitting on the coach hunched over in pain. “Baby what's wrong?” he asks, sliding his shoes off, slowly making his way over to you. 

Sitting up you put the best fake smile you can muster. You say “nothing just needed to stretch out my back is all.” Feeling terrible about lying but you also would have felt more uncomfortable telling John who you’ve only been seeing for six months about your menstrual problems. 

“Okay” although you know he doesn’t believe you, but you’re thankful he’s letting it go at the moment. 

You have never been more thankful that John said he was tired after practice and rather not leave the coziness of your apartment. Deciding on a movie, both of you were cuddled up together on the coach, you only have to pay attention trying to put some pressure on your uterus so it wouldn’t hurt so bad. Now John was only half paying attention because everytime you shifted to try and lessen your pain level, you subtly rubbed against his dick and now he was starting to have what was a semi into a fully hardened dick. Feeling another cramp coming you shifted your body again trying to ease the pain. But before you could, John's hands stopped your hips, his mouth going to the side of your cheekbone. “Baby if you don't stop moving I think my dick might get permanent damage.” he whines, as he leaves little open kisses down your face. 

“Oh sorry” you blush trying not to not to move your hips too much. 

“Or we could let it happen.” As he starts leaving little kisses starting at your temple and then going below your ear, his hand going under your hoodie, inching closer and closer to your waistband. 

“Johnny I can’t” squeezing your eyes shut as hard as they possibly can until you see stars because you really didn’t wanna have to tell him this now. 

“okay.” laying back down against the couch. John would never push you if you weren’t in the mood but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was confused.

“I'm still on my period.” you shyly admit.

Sitting up more now as if his brain is doing the math, “wait didn’t you have your period like two weeks ago?” he questioned. 

“yeah.” Turning your back now to face him better. 

“Baby is it supposed to last that long?” he rhetorically asks. All you do is look down at your hands and he gives a knowing tone. “Baby, are you okay?” he asks gently, trying to hold you in the awkward way you're half laying down, half sitting down on the coach. 

“Yeah this just happens sometimes. I made an appointment with my doctor, okay.” you mumble, obviously wanting to drop the conversation and your thankful thank John lets both of you focus back on the movie. 

As the movie continues you couldn’t help squirming a little, as your back started arguing and your body suddenly felt even more fatigued probably from the low iron levels. Knowing that you should probably get some nuts or something from the kitchen. But all you can do is wince in pain, as it feels like someone is holding a sharp knife inside your stomach and every time you attempt to turn they twist the knife to cause more pain. 

“Baby?” You can hear John’s voice but you can’t process him speaking to you and breathing through the pain. Finally the pain subsides and you answer a very frantic looking John. 

“Yeah.” answering a little more weakly than you would have liked. 

“Can you tell me what hurts baby?” His brown eyes look so soft, full of care and also worry for you. His arms are going under your hoodie to attempt to deeply rub your stomach. His care made you want to cry because how can this boy be so caring. 

“Nothing, just my stomach. And I think my iron levels are low.” attempting to softly smile at your caring boyfriend but the worrisome look he’s giving you back, your smile must have looked more like you were in pain. 

“What do you need? Do you need to go to the hospital? Do you want me to grab your heating pad for the pain? You should probably be drinking more fluids love, can I get you some water?” generally asking.

“No, they aren’t gonna do anything. I have some painkillers in the kitchen and some nuts that should help with my iron levels. If you want my heating pad on my bed but you don’t have to, I can get up and grab it and the nuts.” As you go to get up, he gently places you back on the couch. 

“You must be really sick if you think I’m letting you leave this coach.” He says, leaving a kiss on your cheek and half climbing over you, half pushing you off of him. 

“What am I supposed to do when I need to go to the bathroom?” you yell to him as he disappears to go into the kitchen. 

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it.” He yells back in between the slamming of a ton of cabinets trying to find what he was looking for. 

A small chuckle leaves your lips at how demanding John is that you need to stay on the coach. “Johnny, we're gonna get to that point in a few minutes.” you tease him, although you are getting to that point where you need to change your pad. 

“Okay baby hold on.” He comes back with every single type of nut that you had in the cabinet; peanuts, mixed nuts, cashews, even peanut butter and a giant glass of ice water. Putting everything on your coffee table. 

He bent down so his eyes were on the same level as yours and he didn’t tower over you as you laid on your side on the coach. “Do you wanna go to the bathroom now or do you want me to go grab the heating pad and we can cuddle?” he softly asked, as his hand went to your hip and squeezed it while he waited for your answer. 

“Bathroom.” you whisper, slowly making your way to sitting up again.

“Okay will you please eat something first to help your lightheadedness, I don’t want you to pass out or something.” biting his lips is a nervous habit he picked up years ago back in his prep school years, a clear sign that he was having anxious thoughts due to your physical state. 

Now fully sitting up, you nodded your head no. “Johnny, I need to go to the bathroom.” your stern voice leaving no room for debate. John only let out a sigh as he turned around on the balls of his feet, now his back facing you. 

“Hop on baby.” he says he turns his head to try to make eye contact with you still at this odd angle. 

“What?” letting out a breath that could have passed for a giggle and a sigh mixed together. “I can walk Johnny.” 

“Baby please.” almost sounding like a whine. He continued softly “please let me take care of you.” he begged. 

“Okay.” Putting either leg on Johnny’s he stood up, walking you to the master bathroom. Softly he placed you on your feet when you got there. Quickly leaving so you could use the bathroom. Once you were done everything you needed to, you were leaving the bathroom, expecting to make it back to the living room where you expected John to be. 

But instead as you opened the bathroom door, you saw that John put all the nuts he got earlier, and your glass of water on a tray and it was now sitting on your bedside table on your side of the bed. He was currently turning on your heating pad for you, his back turned to you. 

Out of pure shock at how he was acting you gasped, it was enough for him to turn around in a second, practically leaping towards you asking “baby please can you tell me what hurts?” His arms closing around you pulling you towards him. 

“Nothing” you whispered. “Nothing at all. I just have never had someone care this much is all.” Holding onto him as tight as you could to attempt to share how grateful you were for your boyfriend. 

“Well get used to it.” he whispered in your ear, gently lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. “Please eat some nuts, and if you feel any worse I am taking you to the hospital.” 

“John, they aren’t going to do anything.” Not trying to pick a fight with him, but rather tell him what you already knew, even if your tone came out sounding a little condescending. 

“You don't do that Y/N.” he tried to counter argue but all you did was bring your hand to your face and pinch the skin on the bridge of your nose, trying to rub off the frustration that was starting to build up again. 

“Yes I do.” Slightly raising your voice, despite the fact that John was sitting right next to you on the edge of the bed. “This happens every single year okay. My body gets used to my birth control, I sometimes end up in the ER, occasionally for a blood transfusion an-” Johnny cuts you off before you can even finish the ‘and.’

“A WHAT?” His voice is much louder than it has been all night. “We are going to the ER, you are weak and lightheaded, and your period has been here for two weeks. What's that 14 days, you need medical attention.” 

A sigh leaves your lips as you explain to your very caring boyfriend again how they aren’t going to do anything. “Okay I only needed a transfusion once, and I usually don’t go to the ER till I hit 30 days okay. And it’s not like they give me medicine to stop it. I have to go to my doctor for that, but she’s booked up for a few weeks. It’ll be fine.” Trying to reach for him not sure if it’s to bring him comfort or yourself. “ Johnny, will you come lay with me?” Seeing his beautiful brown eyes soften. “Please” you beg, knowing you probably sound pathetic but you didn’t know if he was mad at you, thinking he could be because you said no to the hospital, still navigating the dynamics of your almost 7 month relationship. 

Nodding his head, he finally slips his shoes off not having time earlier he just realized due to worrying about you. He climbs over, turns on his side facing you and brings his hand to your cheek as you face him. 

“Hi” he whispers. “better y/n/n?” as he still lays over the covers. 

“I wish you could get closer.” you shyly admit. 

“What? Do you wanna lay on top of me baby all you had to do was ask.” Kissing you gently and pulling you on top of him. 

“No I can’t.” trying to get off of him.

“What do you want Y/N” sounding confused but also sighing, probably getting a little frustrated at the scatteredness of your mind tonight. 

“I wanna lay on top of you, but I-.” Taking a deep breath you deepen your face into his shoulder. As quiet as a mouse you spoke, “I’m scared of bleeding through my pad during the night. I don’t wanna get blood on you.” 

“It’s okay baby girl.” 

“No it’s not.” speaking at a normal tone. 

“Y/N. I am telling you that it’s okay, if you want we can use the towel I saw when I was turning your heating pad on.” 

“You saw that.” Almost sounding like you were close to tears, you face now in his neck, too scared to pull away because he would definitely see the embarrassment written all over your face. 

“Hey hey shh honey.” wrapping his arms around you, bringing you comfort for the first time since you exited your bathroom. “Please just let me love you for tonight.” he confessed as he attempted to kiss as if your face wasn't hiding. Shaking your head, yes that’s exactly what he did, turning off your heating pad. He spent the night whispering random little stories into your ear until you fell asleep, John not far behind you as the tiredness of the day lured him to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally today was the day of your doctor’s appointment with your gynecologist. Sadly, it had gotten to the point where you had to call out of work yesterday, because you felt so weak. It felt as if your body was rejecting you, the blood clots that were passing were huge and you felt sick to your stomach. Johnny has been staying at your place for the last week because “ I can’t leave you alone when you're like this Y/N.” So he just came home from morning skate to find you still curled in bed, half consciousness, craving sleep that just wasn’t coming. He practically shoved the phone in your hand to call out. Thankfully you had taken today off because of your appointment because there was no way you would have made it into work today. Slowly getting up to eat something and take a shower before you had to leave, surprised to open your bedroom door and hear the T.V in the living room softly playing along with what smelt like breakfast. Finally begrudgingly making your way into your kitchen you were shocked to see Johnny at the stove making breakfast. 

“Johnny, I thought you had practice.” as you softly pad your feet over to him wrapping your arms around his bare stomach, resting your head on the back of his shoulder blade. 

“I did but your appointment is today.” Speaking in a confident tone, like he didn’t need to be anywhere else. 

“okay..” Questioning your boyfriend's logic but before you could ask any questions he turns around and responds. 

“Listen you have been feeling like actual shit for weeks and I wanna support you by being there. Plus I don’t want you driving after yesterday.” Speaking in a comforting tone, it made you want to cry because you’ve never had someone care so much about why your menstrual cycle was so out of whack. 

“Okay.”

“Oh okay go sit down baby. I made you breakfast.” excited about his creation even though you couldn’t see it. “I woke up early today, to read about foods that are high in iron to help you before we find out what’s wrong. So I had eggs and then I had a spinach salad. And before you start, just eat some of the salad baby. I know you hate raw spinach but I made a dressing that’s supposed to be good and-” Finally looking over to you with your plate in his hand to see tears in your eyes. 

“Oh no babes.” Rushing over to where you were sitting on the bar, abandoning both plates of food in the kitchen. Carefully taking the pads of his thumbs to rub comforting circles on your cheeks and wipe any tears. “baby can you tell me what hurts?” The worry in his eyes so evident as he looked down at you. 

“Nothing.” you choke out, pulling John closer to you to almost standing between your legs as you sit in the breakfast bar chair. 

“Y/N/N I can’t fix ‘nothing.” softly chuckling, he whispered the next words so soft you barely heard him. “Why are you crying honey?” 

Finally removing yourself in the comfort of his chest, “ it’s just no one has ever cared like you before.” Looking up at him. 

“Well you better get used to it baby girl. Cause I’m gonna be here until you don’t want me anymore which I pray never happens.” Both of you share a soft smile, as he glances at your lips and gently leans in to share a gentle kiss.  

John stayed with you the entire day, even at the doctor's office holding your hand as the doctor was explaining how the ultrasound worked to see if you did have any cysts on your ovaries. The doctor was in the middle of asking him to step out so they could do the test, but you just tighten in his grip. “I am not leaving unless Y/N wants me to.” he states. 

“I want him to stay please.” your voice shaking from the level of anxiety you felt in the pit in your stomach. “Please Dr. Smith” your eyes pleading with the middle age white woman. 

“Okay Y/N. The tech will be in any minute okay.” softly speaking trying not to raise your anxiety any higher. John held your hand the entire internal ultrasound whispering in your ear how proud you were doing, even though it was definitely adding to the pain you felt. He held your hand the entire way home. He didn’t say a word, just kept rubbing his thumb over your hand. All you did was stare out the window, your mind replaying the words of your doctor. 

“Well as you know Y/N this could be a couple of different things, you could have PCOS - now what kind we would have to figure out. You could have some other type of hormonal disorder and I can recommend you to a hormonal doctor. But either way Y/N I am going to be honest, based on your previous scans and bloodwork it will be very hard for you to have children one day.” Her eyes went soft out of compassion but all you could think about was how compassionate could they be when you were probably the 100th woman she ever told this to. 

“What’s the percent?” you whisper, your eyes reducing to look at John. Your relationship many be new but you didn’t want anyone else but him and you knew he wanted children. 

“It’s hard to say, we will have to wait for new scans to come in.” Dr. Smith says, as she stadn to exit the room. 

Now in the car staring at the window you let the tears fall, you might have never known if you ever wanted kids before John. But once you met him, you knew you wanted to and the fact that something that you might not have even wanted until a few months ago may never be a possibility makes your silent tears turn into a sob as John parks the car in your apartment’s underground parking garage. He turns off his car, as he buckles his seatbelt and turns to you. But you refuse to look at him, you didn’t want comfort from the man whose dreams of becoming a father you might have just shattered. 

“Y/N.” you could hear John’s scared begging voice, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to turn to him. “Y/N please don’t shut me out.” he whispered, his voice strained with pain that was the final straw that broke you turning your head. John’s head was leaning against the headrest as he looked at you, his brown eyes even darker filled with emotion. After a few minutes of you refusing to speak to him, he asked you a simple question. “Baby do you trust me?” as he leaned closer to you, as if he was on the edge of his seat. Shaking your head, yes, it was as if your body moved in an instant. Struggling to see through your tears, all you could feel was John unbuckle your seatbelt and pull you over the middle console, pushing his seat back as far as it went. Somehow you fit in the small space that was left in his lap. Both of you lost track of time, but eventually you calmed down playing with the strings of John’s hoodie, as he put one of his hands under the back of your shirt drawing random shapes on your skin. 

“Hey Johnny?” Finally feeling like you can speak despite the rawness of your voice and the scratchiness of your throat. 

“Yeah baby?” he whispers, scared that if his voice goes above a whisper you will start pulling away from him like a few minutes ago. 

“Please don’t leave me.” Putting your face as deep as it goes in the crock of his neck. 

“What?” he breaths out. “Why would you even think that?” His hands suddenly squeeze you tighter, almost as if he started becoming scared that if his grip on you wasn’t tight you would slip through his fingers. 

“I can’t be a mom and you wanna be a dad.” Although the logic made perfect sense in your brain all John could do at your confession is scrunch his eyebrows together. 

“Again what?” His hand that was resting on your thigh moving you guided your face to look at him. 

“You really wanna have kids one day but you heard the doctor what if I can’t.” you admit your fear and all it does is give you more anxiety as you await an answer from John.

“Baby is that why you’re upset?” A big smile breaking out on his face, his toothless grin as you nod your head yes. “Baby I have always said I wanted KIDS with YOU. I didn’t even have kids on the radar until that family skate where I saw you with all my teammates kids’. I never even thought about and the idea of leaving you fuck no.” Both his heads going to hold your face. 

“And baby I am pretty sure I said I wanted to have kids one day with you. If we have trouble getting pregant we can do IVF okay. And if that doesn’t work we can adopt I don’t care if our children are biologically ours or not. I just wanna raise kids with you ONE DAY, not today.” John finishes his speech and all you can do is say okay and as you crash your lips in a kiss as a thank you to him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Few Weeks later…..

John held your hand the entire time in the waiting room while your doctor read your results, he practically held you when you went back to the room for the results of your updated bloodwork and ultrasound. The nerves of what was the possible next step was getting to you, you couldn’t stop your leg from shaking. John gently put the palm of his hand on your knee as a gentle reminder that you aren’t alone in this. 

Eventually Dr.Smith walked in, she told you that it was very obvious through your ultrasound that you had PCOS and she found it odd that no one had diagnosed you up to this point. She did tell you that unfortunately there was no cure which you already knew. She spent the next 30 minutes in your room, not answering your questions but John’s. When she told John that a Mediterranean diet was best for women with PCOS he immediately went to Amazon. He lightly demanded that Dr.Smith tell him which cookbooks were the best and from that moment on you didn’t really cook. John always cooked for you or with you, he even changed to a mediterranean diet. Johnny would always make sure he had made plenty of meals that you could easily heat up, or dinners that he froze that you could eat when he was on long roadies. 

Johnny always took care of you, of your intense cycles, crazy mood swings, special diet, working out with you. Although he stopped when he realized you couldn’t stop undressing him with your eyes. Johnny was with you the entire way, you felt relief not only because you had a name for what was happening to you. But because you had a support system within John for the crazy rollercoaster that you were on due to having PCOS. 

Every single day, you find yourself being even more grateful for listening to Johnny all those weeks ago when he asked you if you would just “let me love you.”

[roshambo05]

(TW: Mentions of ableism)

A few months back, my little sister and I started watching ROTTMNT together. While we had many reasons for our sudden interest, it was mainly due to the high praises from fans for its stellar autism representation. I myself am autistic, and my sister, a sucker for a good cartoon and my biggest supporter in more ways than one, was just as enthusiastic as me if not more so to see if the show lived up to the hype.

For a little background, Rise's version of Donatello is canonically autistic. And honestly, it was incredible representation. Watching the show with my sister, I was shocked by how often I was able to relate to Donnie. His sensory moments, difficulties with conveying emotion, his touch aversion, even little things like his use of sign, it all hit so close to home that it was almost scary. But what really hit me the hardest was the movie (spoilers btw).

Near the end of the movie, there were two moments that really stuck with me. The first, of course, was the incredibly accurate and disgusting scene showcasing Donnie's texture sensitivity as he tried to link with the Kraang ship. And while I was still ruminating on how accurate it was and how disgusted and panicked I felt, I was hit by this line: Raph - "Don't worry, Donnie! This is not a hug! It's a rescue!"

Now, to many of you, this might seem like nothing special, but for me, this was the single most important moment in any piece of media I'd ever consumed. To me, this was Donnie's family understanding and accepting him as he is. This was his brother making an effort to accommodate his needs. Because Donnie hates touch that isn't on his terms, especially when he's already around anxiety and unfamiliarity. Raph's acceptance of this fact and active reassurance in an attempt to comfort his brother in a high-stress situation shows just how much he and the others cared about Donnie, not in spite of his autistic traits, but because of them. Believe me when I say I started tearing up. And at first, I was embarrassed. Here I was, eighteen years old, crying over a children's cartoon. But I came to realize that it was because I'd never felt seen in that way before.

When your only exposure to autism in media is Sheldon Cooper and Rain Man, when you're given movies like Sia's Music and told to be grateful, when the largest corporation claiming to speak for you is actively trying to eradicate you, when all you're ever told is that your very existence is wrong, it becomes hard not to believe those things. A lack of representation in my life not only led to a late diagnosis but an extreme self-consciousness and lack of understanding from my peers. I struggled to be treated as an equal because people saw me as stupid and reclusive. But for the first time in my life, I was given one movie, one character, that made me feel accepted. And it made everything feel that much lighter.

Representation always matters. Whether it be ethnicity, disability, sexuality, gender identity, or whatever else it may be, it is incredibly important. Most marginalized groups grow up with no one to relate to, feeling like they are unimportant or wrong for existing. And that cannot stand. People deserve to feel seen, no matter who they are or their background.

[mrsjobarnes]

Not the only Cowboy - Chapter 2

Summary: Jake had never been the type of guy to fall first, maybe you’ll be the one to change that. 

Jake Sersin x Nurse!reader 

Word count: 1,543 

Likes & comments are welcome! 

Please do not steal my work! 

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Jake couldn’t wait till Saturday, everybody was in charge of bringing something. He was initially going to get just beer, but then he talked to one of his sisters and she suggested bringing sweet tea. 

Normally, Jake wouldn’t tell any of his sisters about a crush but she had always been able to read him like a book and coaxed it out of him. So here he was the night before on the phone with his mama making homemade sweet tea to bring. 

“Jake she must be some girl for you to cook,” his mama said, giggling. Since Jake was a kid, the family had a running joke about how he couldn’t be trusted to cook after he almost burned the house down after making toast. Toast. But to him, you were worth the risk of burning down his house. 

—

The next morning Jake got up early to get ready. He wanted to be one of the first ones there. He shot Javy a text telling him he was on his way and then quickly looked in the mirror. ‘You’ve got this! You’re a smart, kind, charming, sexy & badass pilot’ he thought while fixing his hair. Once he got Javy they headed to the beach. 

“Dude, what’s wrong,” Javy asked in a concerned tone. “You’re gripping that steering wheel like it asked out one of your sisters,” he said, giggling to try and lighten the mood. 

“You promise you won’t tell or get mad?” Jake asked in a serious tone as the car pulled into the parking lot. Javy’s heart started racing, but he nodded, giving Jake the go-ahead. Jake looked him in the eyes “I am nervous because Y/N’s gonna be there,” Jake confessed. 

Javy bursts into laughter thinking Jake is just pulling his leg. “Dude nice joke, if you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong it’s okay,” Javy said, still laughing. 

Jake gave him a look and it all snapped into place for the other pilot. “You’re not joking are you?” he asked. Damn he thought, Jake has only been like this when he was with his ex 4 years ago. “Listen if you are serious I’ll support you, but if you just want to mess around with her, don’t. It will cost all of us good nurses and a lecture from Cyclone. You and I both know that Cyclones are scary. Plus, she seems super nice,” he said. Jake nodded his head along as Javy spoke. He smiled a little because he does want something with you. “So, what’s the plan then?” Javy asked as he got out of the car and grabbed the veggie tray he brought. Jake followed behind thinking about it for a minute and then started scheming with Javy. 

Meanwhile, you just pulled into the parking lot and parked next to Bradley and Nat. “Hey Yall,” you say walking over to them. You had decided to bring your famous brownies. 

“Whatever you brought looks so good, Y/N,” Nat said as you guys walked toward the rest of the group. 

Jake walked up to you and offered to take the brownies to the picnic table where the rest of the food was laid out. You blushed and followed behind him. The table was filled with yummy-looking snacks. Nat called you over to set up your towel next to hers. As you walk over you can’t help but look at Jake walking over to the guys to play catch. Damn his ass looks great you thought. Bradley made his way over and started a conversation about whether or not his toenail is infected. Once you’ve examined it and given your diagnosis of an ingrown toenail you and Nat started picking on him. 

Jake looked over and saw that Bradley was making you laugh and got jealous. Javy notices this and tells him to go over and insert himself in the conversation instead of being salty.  “What are yall laughing about,” Jake asked.

You giggle and tell him that Bradley thought he was dying because of his ingrown toenail. 

“In my defense, it looked pretty bad,” Bradley said, throwing his hands up. 

You all giggled and decided it was time to play some football. You took off your top revealing a black one piece  and walked towards the water with Nat. 

“Pick your Jaw off the floor dude, She’s off limits” Bradley reminds Jake as they walk towards the group. 

As Bob explained the rules and divided up the teams, Jake saw you sizing everyone up and planning out your strategy with Nat. Right after they snapped the ball, Nat threw it at you and once you caught it Jake came after you. He wrapped his arms around you and tried to take the ball when you let out a shriek and thrashed out of his hold, eventually taking off towards the makeshift end zone. 

Once you got the touchdown, you did a silly dance that made up for the fear you caused Jake when you screamed. On the next snap, once you got the ball, Jake ran after you and when he finally caught you, he threw you over his shoulder and ran to his side of the field all while you just laughed. A couple of snaps later you decided to take a break and eat when suddenly Jake joined you. 

As you guys are walking up to the table you decide to strike up a conversation about Texas football. “So are you a college ball or an NFL fan?” you asked, praying he didn’t say the Cowboys. 

“College ball all the way, specifically the Longhorns. Have you seen our NFL teams? They suck. What about you?” he said.  

“NFL, the Kansas City Chiefs all the way,” you said with a huge smile.

“I didn’t peg you for a football girl,” he said, noticing how you lit up talking about it. 

“I was raised in a football family. It was what my dad and I did to bond,” you said. “It was one of the only ways I could connect with him. I didn’t do sports like my brothers, I mean I did but not ones that he understood,” you said with a sad smile on your face. Jake understood that look. If anybody understood complicated family dynamics it was him. He was the second child of seven - and the only boy - so he knew a thing or two about being the odd one out. 

“What sport did you do?” he asked, handing you a plate and then grabbing some food. 

“I did ballet, which I know some people don’t think is a sport, but I disagree,” you said sitting down on your towel. Almost all of Jake’s sisters dance or cheer so he knew that it was hard work and the fact that people didn’t think it counted always confused him. 

“My sisters danced and cheered, so I’ve seen firsthand the amount of strength it takes. Were you on point?“ he asks. You looked at him adoringly and told him all about your dance journey and how you had to give it up because of an injury and that is how you became a nurse. 

He was in awe of you, he knew right then that he had to make a move, but how? As he finished the veggies you made him get and his three sandwiches, he moved on to the brownies you made. 

He looked and asked, “Did you make these?” Once you nodded, he moaned out loud. “These are delicious.” You couldn’t help but blush. 

“What did you bring?” you asked him. 

“I brought my mama’s classic sweet tea,” he said. Your eyes lit up, and when you ask where it is he offers to get you a cup which you gladly accept. “Here you go Darling '' you start to blush. 

As you taste it you are met with the best tea you have had since leaving the south. “Mmmmm” you moaned. “This is delicious, ah I missed sweet tea,” you said looking at him. 

He blushed, glad that you enjoyed it, making a note to thank his mama. 

“So tell me about your sisters” The conversation continued as he talked about his sisters. Damn, he is so cute, I should just ask him out. What if he says no? Granted, then work will suck, but if he says yes? Then it could be great - god, pull yourself together Y/n. 

“So, Jake, what are you doing Friday night cause I was thinking we could go to this dance club?” you asked.

 He looked at you with round eyes “I would love to,” Jake said, smiling. 

“Okay it’s a date,” you said. As you started to clean up your plates and started walking towards your car and started exchanging information and making a plan. 

“I’ll pick you up at 6 Friday darling,” he said, kissing you on the cheek. As you pulled out of the parking lot you were filled with joy and couldn’t wait till Friday. 

Tag list

@alana4610

@taytaylala12

@lonelywitchv2

@junegrey2

@novagreen04

[twilight-at-midnight]

High functional autism

Pairing: Edward Cullen x reader

Warnings: Slight bullying

Requested: @frzntrx

Request: Edward X High functioning Autistic (used to be called Asperger's) reader who loves reading and writing stories??? :) It's nice to see representation in media (Sheldon Cooper from BBT kinda puts people off, but other stuff like the Book "The Kiss Quotient" are more relatable!)

***

Out of all the classes you were enrolled in, you favored creative writing and debate most out of all others.

Study could be considered as another favorite, as you could take advantage of the time to either read or think of an idea for your short stories. You were a very talkative person as well, and sadly, that had lost you a few friends while others grew tired of you. That included the teachers, and teachers are supposed to be like your given ultimate protection from the mean kids at school.

You would speak almost non stop, the only friend that stood by your side was Bella Swan, she never once considered judging you just because of your diagnosis of High Functioning Autism. She was one of the few who didn’t and who could oversee that and be friends with you anyways. After Bella, Edward Cullen soon follows and he seemed to have taken quite an interest in you, and Bella couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous as she had always thought of him as handsome and wanted nothing more then to be with Edward. But at the same time, she couldn’t intervene because she just wanted happiness for the both of you. Just like Bella, Edward had felt as though he needed to protect you after learning of your diagnosis.

The thing was you were handing in your assignment for creative writing and after getting the best score out of everyone else, that’s where the teasing had started. Some even gave you the nickname, teacher’s pet and you couldn’t lie that it was hurtful. Bella nor Edward stepped into your defense because you haven’t said a single word about the hell you’ve been enduring through the school hallways of Forks High School. When they did find out, it was when they discovered you in the ladies room, quietly sobbing in case anyone walked by. Edward had a look of wordy, he couldn’t go in the ladies room without being seen, so Bella did and started talking to you, wanting to figure out what was wrong. Admittedly, you had wanted to be left alone at first when you were found, but Bella wasn’t having any of it as she remains there until you’re ready to tell her what’s going on.

It took a few moments to gather your thoughts before spilling the beans completely about your school life, the teasing and bullying along with everything that’s been going on. Bella was not too happy of course that you hadn’t report this to her or Edward and what set her off was the showing of your grade from creative writing course and when she reads over it, she was now really upset about this, so much so that you were beginning to feel bad about telling the actual truth, than you started apologizing.

Bella stops talking your ear off once she heard the apology.

“Are you serious? This is why you’ve been teased? What the hell is wrong with people?!”

“I’m sorry..” you say quietly, Bella than looks your way.

“Don’t be, it’s not you. It’s them and it always will be them. You’re very strong and capable of extraordinary things, things that had given you something most people don’t have, you were one of the few lucky ones. It makes you quite unique, I love your short stories and the way you pick a book to read to me and Edward on the lawn during lunch hour. You may be a talker, but there’s no need to worry when it comes to talking to me. Don’t listen to them, okay? They just don’t know the real you.”

You slowly nod in agreement while taking her outstretched hand to pull you to your feet and follow back out behind her.

It was almost startling to see that Edward was waiting for you.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“Nothing now, everything is okay.” Bella lies.

“Nothing now, I just had a bad day is all. Everything is fine now.” You say, backing Bella up on her lie.

Later on that night, something would happen to make everything change.

You had followed Bella to town along with two of her new friends as they were there to pick out dresses for the prom. You weren’t paying any attention until Jessica had mentioned your name, confronting you about it.

“Are you even listening,(Y/n)?”

It was a little embarrassing, because you didn’t have a book with you to read and you didn’t want to find yourself talking so much to the point these people would walk away like the rest have done in the past.

Jessica and Angela had no idea of your diagnosis, and they were a bit impatient with you. Looking up at them, you see Jessica in a beautiful lavender dress and you sincerely thought it looked head over heels beautiful on her. All it really was incredibly stunning, so much so that she shouldn’t have to try on anymore dresses.

“Of course! I love that one on you, it’s very pretty.”

“If there’s something else you’d rather be doing, you’re welcome to leave and meet us back at the restaurant for dinner as planned.” Jessica says.

“Will do. Um.. there’s actually a book I’d like to go and pick up from a nearby store.”

“Want me to come with?” Bella offers.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

After walking out of the store, you started making your way back to the restaurant, and part of that route goes through a sketchy dark alley that didn’t quite feel safe to walk through. Even if you weren’t alone, it gave anyone and eerie feeling not to go through it.

You were going to bravely continue in the alley, until you saw some creepy homeless dudes messing around with a pack or two of beers in hand. On instinct, you quickly turn to go the other way, or at least, you tried to from the sketchy men. The red flags started showing when they spot you before getting over closer to you, making unwanted advances towards you. With your diagnosis, it was often difficult for you to fight alone, but you wouldn’t give these disgusting homeless men the satisfaction in becoming vulnerable to them, you wanted to fight back and that’s exactly what you were going to do. After the first advanced had taken place, you were more furious than you were at all scared.

“Don’t touch me!” You snap, trying to back away.

The men started surrounding you, making remarks.

“Where do you think you’re going? Come with us, we’ll show you a good time!”

That’s when you got scared and really tried to fight them off. What saved your life was the sound of tires screeching as an unrecognizable car pulled up with Edward existing it.

He demands you to get in the car, which you do.

“Get in the car.” Edward orders firmly as he walks over to the men.

You watch from the passenger’s seat as Edward scared them off with a death glare that read, “If you hurt her, you will have to deal with me.” It was impressive to say the least, though Edward scared them off by dominating the situation, he climbed back in the car furious and nearly ran over one of the men who laid a unwanted hand on you.

Edward quickly sped off, right on out of there with you safe and sound. That was a night neither of you would ever forget. The situation was like a roller coaster and you wanted nothing more than to forget about it, but you would always be grateful for Edward getting there in the nick of time. After the incident, you used part of the scenarios in your short stories and had given them to Edward to read. He loved the effort you had in writing, and wanted you to write some more sometime while sitting on the lawn with both Bella and himself during lunch hour and read to them.

You read them aloud the book you had bought from that very store. Living with high functional autism was not always difficult, best friends made it not seem so difficult. In your case, you had two best friends that you were closest to, and everyone knew it. Those friends were Edward and Bella, they were always there for you.

That was all that matters, you no longer didn’t care what others thought.

***

@twilight-at-midnight

Tags: @frzntrx

NOTE: I hope you enjoy! Thank you for requesting this and I hope I did it up to your expectations! Feel free to send in another request! ❤️

Requests: open

Characters:

• Carlisle Cullen

• Edward Cullen

• Jasper Cullen

• Emmet Cullen

• Riley Biers

• Benjamin

• Vladimir

• Alice Cullen

• Rosalie Cullen

• Bella Swan

• Aro

• Caius

• Alec

• Jane

[copperbadge]

I hope these questions aren’t offensive, you can just delete this ask if they are… Did it help you, mentally speaking, to be officially diagnosed as ADHD? Like, is it easier to know for a fact you’re neurodivergent and not just,,, weird? I’m pretty sure I’m autistic, and only undiagnosed because I’m a girl and I test well (my brother is autistic and has the same tendencies and reactions I do, but he got dx’d at 5), but on the other hand, what if I’m wrong? And I’m also a broke college student, so I’m kinda waffling on whether or not to actually pursue a doctor’s opinion, but I thought I’d ask your advice first, since you’re both a complete stranger and have gone through something similar

Anon, you sent this in SEPTEMBER, my apologies, it got pushed down a bit in my askbox.

The thing is...okay I'll talk about the psychological impact in a minute, but I also feel like it's the least relevant aspect, for me. Whatever a diagnosis did for my sense of self, what it also did was give me a document that impacts everything else in my life.

With a diagnosis I have access to medication that materially improves my condition (which is less the case with autism than with ADHD, admittedly). I have access, should I want it, to accommodations for my disability; those are imperfectly applied, you often have to fight hard to actually get them implemented, but especially as a student you would be given access to things like longer time periods for tests, study aids like audio recordings of your required reading, extra tutoring, pre-registration access to classes, etc. based on need.

This bleeds over into the mental health aspect a little, but I am also more confident in my research on ADHD because I have a medical doctor's opinion that yes I do indeed have it (and evidence of that from the efficacy of the medication).

In terms of whether it helped me mentally/emotionally...research is ongoing, I suppose. It didn't emotionally devastate me the way it did my mother, when she was diagnosed late with learning disabilities, but she came from a different generation and didn't grow up with a sibling who was diagnosed young, so she had different issues than I do. There is some bitterness about my late diagnosis, but that's situational, and I'm old enough to know how to work through/past it. I suppose it gives me more confidence in asking for informal accommodations -- recently at a party I asked someone if we could move rooms because I couldn't process what they were saying over the two conversations happening behind me -- but I was already pretty good at that. I'm having to re-examine some basic beliefs I held about who I am, but that's not a bad thing, just unpleasant to be in the middle of.

So now to the heart of it: "What if I'm wrong?"

First, almost nobody who self-diagnoses is whole-cloth wrong when it comes to neurodivergence. They might have the wrong diagnosis, or might not fully understand what's going on, but when that "Oh, I'm different" light flicks on, it's usually for a reason.

Second, okay, what if you are wrong? It's okay if you're just weird. You won't be punished for being Neurotypical-But-Weird any more than society was already punishing you, so you risk nothing in getting tested in that sense. You don't lose any ground, and you gain some self-knowledge. Might not be the self-knowledge you wanted, but it's not going to kill you.

True, there is the cost to consider, but as a student you should be able to go to the campus health center and at least get more advice on how testing would work, the costs etc. Your school's disability office, if they have one, may also have resources in that regard. It IS important to get adequately tested -- a lot of people miss a diagnosis because their evaluator's idea of testing was "asking combative questions and dismissing the answers" -- but more knowledge is always better than less.

The only downside to testing is that if you do get an official diagnosis, that can follow you for life -- earlier discussions I've had about this have brought up the fact that it can impact job placement, whether you're allowed to adopt or care for children, and other issues surrounding the way we punish people with disabilities for being disabled. A diagnosis of Autism can impact you legally. But I also think it's worth it to know and to have documentation that says you need accommodation.

I mean. This hasn't been the most fun process in the world, but I do think it's been one of the most important things I've done in my life. If you felt strongly about your self-diagnosis I'd say don't bother with the official, just live your life as if you had one, but it sounds like you have a lot of self-doubt -- so I'd work, as and how you're able, to lay that doubt to rest one way or another.

[xxashtreexx]

Terminal

It was winter, the trees bare with snow clinging to the ground, when they had first found out.

Viktor had collapsed to the floor, and Jayce had found him a few hours later, blood from his nose and mouth spilled to the floor, body curled in on itself.

The worst thing? This hadn’t been the first time Jayce had found him this way, curled in on himself, too-hot like he had the flu but shaking as if cold.

And every time, Viktor would slowly wake up to Jayce holding Viktor tightly, rocking them back and forth as Jayce tried to soothe him.

Jayce looked at him this time and forced himself to really see. Viktor was thinner, had begun walking more stiffly, suffered from bloody noses and headaches and was absolutely exhausted.

And every time, they’d found excuses: Viktor had just been working himself too hard, they had this big deadline coming up, and Jayce was looking worn-out too, so clearly it couldn’t be that bad; the weather was bad, and it had always made Viktor’s bad leg lock up, so now it was no different, right?

“We’re taking you to see a doctor,” Jayce said, firmly this time. He’d said it before, but Viktor — half asleep and in pain — didn’t have the strength to argue. It almost made him feel guilty, but the rest of him needed to know that Viktor was okay, that he was going to be okay —

When the doctors arrived, they had asked Jayce to step out. When they left, they wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, and the diagnosis they’d given Viktor, he’d refused to share.

They shared everything together.

Jayce had fretted, and Viktor iced him out, until finally, when Viktor fell in the lab again, this time in front of Jayce —

“It’s terminal.”

[jewishdainix]

i see you kaladin posting. im so interested to hear about what made you love kal <3

Of course! Yes!

So what made me love Kaladin?

I guess the first thing that made me love him is the introduction to his character in WOK. His description from Cenn's pov already made me like him - tall, long haired and uses a spear? SIGN ME UP (I love those combination of traits maily because of Dainix (another character I relate to, my URL's namesake) from the aurora webcomic - he was ALREADY breathtaking. This chapter brought up so many questions about him, specially wince it's not from his pov - despite it being HIS FIRST chapter.

The chapter after that, you get to see the aftermath of the fight, except its an entirely different situation with a whole different energy. The background noises changed from a battle to low-energy plate clanking and feeling of stailnes. We finally get Kaladin's pov, and he is tired and having a terrible time. Its still him but how he is is such a contrast to how he was described exactly the last page. This both brings out MORE questions - what happened? How did he get there? Where is everybody else? He says he is tired, that he has given up, that he doesn't see any reason to try anymore, but we've already seen him in his epicness, and his breathtaking Kaladiness, how can you NOT root for him? How can you not be fascinated in what has happened to him and how he picks himself back up again? I for sure was.

The second thing is the reliability. I don't have a diagnosis for anything but I know that I probably have depression. I find myself in moments where my emotions get as low as we see kaladin being in so many times. I get that tiredness. That feeling of everything being wrong and there's nothing I can do about it.

I have chronic pain. The scene of the first bridgerun almost me cry, because I felt that pain. I constantly feel like the world is pushing me and not giving me the ability to stop so I just keep running because I don't have any other option. I relate to Kaladin's character an insane amount.

But that wasn't the end of him. Most of his time with the bridgemen was spent trying to make them remember life, remember warmth, choose to live. Worst place possible and yet he managed to help, he managed to being warmth - a reminder that even in the toughest moments there can still be joy and love. His story is about CHOOSING to see that. About CHOOSING LIFE. Knowing that its not always easy, its most of the time hard, but the story that follows him through WOK and every book after that is a story of choosing to push through. Of choosing to see the warmth and letting yourself move on and choosing Life before Death. And that means more to me than almost anything else I have read in fiction.

When I say that Kaladin is the best character I have ever found in fiction, sure I talk about his Kaladiness. His dramatic and sarcastic nature, his badass lines and his aroaceness, but mostly I mean that the affect his character arc (and these books in general) had on me is something that nothing can match.

It just gives me hope and helps me find joy within the simple things and in the hardest times. He chose life and so can I.

[wallacetheentertainer]

"Let's do a friendly, SFW RP blog for a change!" I said, then immediately created a spin-off of my grossest fanon character interpretation ever.

This'll just be a low-interaction in-character blog to figure out the life & exploits of Mundane Human AU Wallace as a "fandomless OC" for my own amusement. I cannot imagine anyone wanting to roleplay with such an offputting little bastard so for the moment considering this a semi-private blog, but future threads aren't off the table entirely depending on how attached I get to this loser shithead.

🎃 @coffinbreath

🎭🎭🎭

Wallace James Punch

Alternate stage moniker: Wally DeLarge

Birthday: 5/22/1993

Voice: if Genesis P-Orridge constantly smoked cigarillos, with a little Sid Vicious

5'/145 lbs/stereotypical angry redhead/fishbelly pale/cold dead blue eyes/terrifying smile/trash fashion sense/trashier tattoos

Basics

A shock-comedy "performance artist" born in Cheshire, England, Wallace Punch's Variety Act has been described by the few critics brave enough to stomach its entirety as "a one-man pantomime of The Aristocrats"---to paraphrase the sex-shop owner in Se7en, "the sort of guy who pisses in a cup on stage and then drinks it". Lots of prop-based humor and dead baby jokes, once landed himself in the hospital with salmonella after biting the head off a plucked dead chicken, another time was banned from the premises for bleeding all over the place when he pierced his nipples with safety pins. He has a small but dedicated fanbase of edgy groupies and is notorious for being mediocre in the sack whenever he does bed them; while not an outright rapist his incel energy is OFF THE CHARTS and if he starts joking about roofies that unfortunately means he likes you. Surprisingly not a drinker given his hair-trigger temper, Wallace prefers club drugs and is very casual about being hooked on amphetamines, definitely not above buying adderall from teenagers despite his age---very "Hello fellow youths" at whatever party he's crashing.

Though as crass and lecherous as his puppet blueprint, Wallace Punch is a complete 180 in other aspects---melancholic as opposed to violent, masking his insecurities with deranged jokes and a pathological need to have all eyes on him, secretly terrified of most animals because for some reason they tend to attack him, masochistic to a point that he's almost too kinky to torture and charismatic in a skanky way that keeps him surrounded by similarly-othered people, topped off with the type of personality disorder that no matter the size of the crowd egging him on, he tends to feel like the loneliest man in the world. Puts the "bi" in "bipolar"---eh, probably, there may not be a straightforward diagnosis for what's wrong with him, and he had a normal-enough childhood that there's no Freudian excuse for his antisocial behavior. Perhaps Wallace is just what happens when a mildly emotionally neglected 10 year old with unsupervised internet access starts stealing his mom's cigarettes and finds that negative attention is better than none.

Backstory, Etc.

The first major turning point in his life was being arrested at age 20 for assault with a weapon, and Wallace was lucky to only spend a year in prison for breaking his flatmate's jaw with a metal juggling torch as soon as he walked in the door---the judge was very lenient, taking into consideration that Wallace's motive was finding "fucked up photos of kids" while snooping through the guy's room for weed; however the case brought so much negative publicity to the Punch name & family restaurant that his father Harold disowned him, with the final comment "you always ran with a bad crowd, why don't you stick with them". This insult on top of the injury of a very rough stay in Wormwood Scrubs broke something in Wallace (it's the one aspect of his criminal history he won't brag about) and led him to start ramping up the show's indecency while using his real name as if to send the message that he wouldn't be so easily forgotten; beyond that he's a registered sex offender due to the number of times he's stripped on stage or taken a leak in public, had to crowdfund bail from fans when he was arrested for soliciting a prostitute while touring the United States, been fined for possession and public intoxication multiple times, regularly steals and engages in prostitution himself despite being quite comfortable from his eccentric aunt's inheritance "because it's fun", and had his license revoked for reckless driving because he's near-sighted yet refuses to wear glasses.

Despite these charges and the general misogynistic bent of his humor, there are quite enough women willing to ignore his many red flags out of sheer curiosity from the rumors (and video clips) that circulate. He's more popular with men, seeming to take pride in making other guys question their sexuality and having lost track of how many times he's heard "you look like a girl from the back"---with his short stature, alto voice, fat ass and flamboyant wardrobe the question as to his sex occasionally comes up, which he'll happily answer with a visual demonstration. Trans fans give him the t-slur pass because for all that he refuses to label himself, he does seem to have quite a fondness for skirts, stockings and tacky jewellery, and while he's definitely chaser-y about it his admiration for transsexuals' "commitment to the bit" in his words is genuine. Wallace isn't particularly bigoted towards one group more than others and will use whatever derogatory language comes to mind first, defaulting towards homophobia (because irony) and antisemitism (because I'm Jewish & comfortable "reclaiming" that, plus I think he'd say some funny shit about us controlling the entertainment industry) or just trash-talking a target's appearance ("Ya call that a moustache? It looks like you're eating a rat!") if sexual and racist epithets don't stick. He gets real enjoyment from audience members heckling him right back, seeming to consider a show a failure if there hasn't been at least one argument or disgusted walk-out.

[amidnightqueery]

20 ways in which I am not my mother/parents, an exhaustive (self) reminder:

— Taking my son to preschool 3x a week via one hour bus commute both ways due to a lack of car and living in a large city, vs. my mother only sending me to preschool a handful of times and then keeping me home, despite having a car and living in a smaller city

— Teaching my son the early fundamentals of literacy via flashcards, games, and reading books together, vs. largely having to teach myself how to read via Leapfrog materials just handed to me and getting very little (if any) opportunities to learn with an adult prior to school

— Helping my son with take home activities such as home readers or always having them available to access, vs. my parents almost never helping me with my activities, homework or assignments

— Paying for my son's excursions and ensuring he is able to go, vs. only getting to go to half of my own (and always missing out on the cool, graduating class ones)

— Always ensuring my son has the correct school uniform (summer / winter) and sizing up when needed, vs. not always having a school uniform, and sometimes having to go cold in the winter or wear clothes I'd outgrown

— Always ensuring my money goes first and foremost to rent, bills, groceries and my son's necessities, even when financially strained, vs. my parents' money going first and foremost towards their addictions over their children, to the extent that we became homeless

— Getting my son into the therapies needed and ensuring he could receive his diagnosis, vs. my having all my needs overlooked or dismissed and never receiving any kind of therapy or diagnosis until I started self-advocating

— Never smoking cigarettes because my parents smoked around their child with asthma (me), and my mother doubled down on smoking throughout her pregnancies despite having a child with cystic fibrosis because it "prevented our birth weights from being too high"

— Never getting angry or yelling at my son for vomiting or wetting the bed or some other sudden event that requires cleaning (at most I might seem slightly bothered, but his wellbeing is #1 and I always make sure he's okay and give him comfort), vs. experiencing my parents' wrath for those things

— Never using an object to hit, or threaten to hit, my son, or ever smacking him hard enough to make him cry or leave a mark (I unfortunately have done open hand smacks on the bottom in the past, but rarely and never enough to hurt), vs. those things often happening to me

— Showing interest in my son's school day, his work, and attending parent-teacher interviews and school events, vs. not being given the same interest the vast majority of the time

— Allowing my son the option between sitting with family or in his room during free time, vs. always being shut up in my room (or being made to feel like I had to)

— Allowing my son to have emotions and working with him to regulate them / co-regulate, and apologising when I have done wrong, vs. being constantly told to shut up, that I am selfish and a "bitch", etc., and never being apologised to because I was supposedly always the one in the wrong

— Never putting my son in a situation where he has to be a parent to his siblings (he doesn't have any), vs. being put in that situation and always having to put their needs and feelings above my own

— Never telling my son my traumas or suicidal thoughts (at most I will tell him I'm sad and give an age appropriate reason why), vs. being my mother's confidante from a scarily young age about things children shouldn't know about

— Trying to give my son a balanced diet around his aversions, vs my parents stuffing our lunch boxes full of junk food to try to pass off that we weren't often going hungry at home; despite packing a lot of food, very little of it was healthy and was testament to their lack of care for our nutrition

— Seeking therapy and continuing useful strategies at home to cope with my mental health struggles, vs my parents never really taking accountability for their mental health problems (especially my mother, who was struggling severely)

— Taking my son to his doctor as needed, vs. my parents only taking me to the doctor once or twice between the ages of 5 and 15

— Taking my son to the dentist yearly, vs. literally never seeing a dentist growing up, even when my adult teeth were damaged

— Encouraging my son's hygiene and providing some routine to help with it, vs. my parents not caring if I bathed, brushed my teeth, or washed my hands after using the toilet, and often would not provide the resources necessary for my hygiene

I constantly fear I am my mother, or just as bad as her, so this list is necessary to see that I have taken all that I didn't like about my upbringing and have tried to do the exact opposite of it at all times (or actually made amends when I have fucked up). I think I deserve to get off my own back about it.

[dzpenumbra]

7/19/23

This is likely going to be a pretty existentially intense entry, given where my head has been at lately, so... just a heads up, I guess.

Last night, I didn't get to sleep until about 6:30 or 7AM. Again... BUT... I slept really well. Even with waking up mid-sleep, I got back to sleep very quickly and I got about 11 hours of sleep in total. It was genuinely shocked to see the time when I finally got up.

My encounter with the meth guy yesterday and related flashbacks dominated the end of my night. It feels like once those "doom-feeling" "I'm not safe" nerves get activated... it opens Pandora's Box. A flood of related thoughts, memories, emotions... it's almost like my conscious mind gives them "permission" to be activated. And they feel right, they feel at home when I'm in that "unsafe" feeling.

It's hard to describe the sensation, the experience. I guess it's different for different people. In the past, I always excluded myself from PTSD diagnosis because of my huge misconception of what PTSD actually is... but more than that, a misconception of what the sufferer's experience of PTSD is. What a flashback actually is. And again... this might be different for different people. I can only really speak from my own experiences, and I'm learning more and more about them every day.

For me... when I get a "flashback"... well, honestly? There are a few different forms. Not just by intensity, but by theme, by trauma. It takes the form of sorta... an instinctual sense that something is off. Like in a horror movie, when the protagonist is going about their day and they have that moment where they suddenly just... sense that something is... very, very wrong. Like... the example that is coming into my head is an anti-example, ironically. In Shaun of the Dead, when Shaun goes to the convenience store like he always does on the first day of the disaster, that's the scene that's popping into my head. And this bit, Shaun being completely oblivious to the end of the world because of how lost in his own mindless routine he is... like a form of zombie himself... that bit only works if you are intimately aware of how he should be reacting. How he should be reacting is... noticing things are off... things are wrong... something... bad is imminently happening... And that usually starts with an instinct, a gut feeling. And that gut feeling is what a lot of my flashbacks feel like.

But... that gut feeling is especially difficult to manage a lot of the time because... it's incredibly non-specific. That fear often is just saying "threat - big - bad - close". No details, nothing. Because it's "my" job, aka the logic centers of my brain, to piece together the narrative. The protective instincts alert to potential threats and deliver them as top priority notifications, the logic centers verify and decide how to react.

So... I was pretty scared of the dark last night. And a lot of memories of difficult things were sorta... primed to come out. And I spent a lot of time just... acknowledging these thoughts. "Yes, I know, it's scary being alone and vulnerable... however... I'm behind several locked doors... in my apartment... and right now, I'm safe." "Yes, I know the world is a fucked up place. But right now, I am in a place of peace, where I'm trying to grow plants and make beautiful art." Or even just simply saying, "Yes I remember that really bad thing happened." And just... trying to let it go. That's what I hope to be able to do. That's a skill I really need to work on, that I hope to be able to refine more and more over time. To be able to just accept a thought that I struggle with - "Yes, I remember." - and then let go of it and let it continue to drift down the stream of thought at the same pace that it drifted in.

And I've realized through experience and through studies and all that... that all of my traumatic flashbacks and anxiety problems? They're all reactions to the Past... or anticipations of potential Futures. They are not reactions to things that actually exist in the Here and Now. Neither the Past nor the Future can be tangibly interacted with. Many would argue... they don't actually exist. That nothing exists except the Present, the Now.

I spend a tremendous amount of time in the Past. Actually, now that I think about it... most of the haunting ghost-movie-like experiences I get are typically Past experiences. Reliving the emotions of being in a past trauma, or maybe fleeting mental images, or mini imaginative sound clips. And the thing that stops me from interacting socially? My rationalization is that it's me trying to learn from those experiences. To keep myself safe. And these feel like "Now" responses. "Now" reactions. But they're not.

Like... the other day (a fucking week ago, holy shit sleep deprivation and isolation fuck with your sense of time...), when I went to the apartment parking lot party thing. I got a lot of gut instincts that I shouldn't go. Like there was a wall of flame outside of my door that I had to build up courage to sprint through. Was that a reaction to the Present, the Now? Nope. That was a reaction to a potential Future. A "what if". It feels like a Now problem... because it has become one. The anxiety, the physical sensations, the adrenaline, the self-protective mechanisms, the racing thoughts, the freezing in place, all of that. That becomes the Now problem that must be solved. But its core... comes from a situation that has not unfolded, and may never actually happen. What were my anxieties that day? I didn't want to be the weird late-30's guy who no one knows with a weird rash on his scalp sitting on the sidelines at a social event just watching people and weirding them out. You know what actually happened when I went? I was the weird late-30's guy who no one knows with a weird rash on his scalp sitting on the sidelines at a social event just watching people and maybe weirding them out. And the world didn't end. I just ate a piece of pizza and some grapes, watched some people throw axes at a target in a truck trailer (which is honestly much weirder than sitting in the grass and watching, when you think about it...) and looking at trees and moss and leaves and cloud patterns. What was my anxiety really trying to protect me (or others) from?

My sleep snafu last night has me writing this at 4AM, so I'm going to try to not get too sidetracked, I did want to discuss a core theme, and I will get to that. This is kind of a reminder to myself.

So... I saw on Instagram that the art collective a block away from my building... the one who had a nude model drawing session the same day as the parking lot party thing... which I didn't go to because I felt it would be a very intense thing for me to go to having been in social isolation this long... They are having a concert on the 20th. Local music, likely acoustic stuff. And they seem to be raising money for victims of the flooding, which is a really awesome cause. And I would like to go, but I am very anxious. Just being very upfront, right now I am planning on not going, because I feel like something bad is going to happen. I want to explore this.

What do I think is going to happen? I really can't put my finger on it. I feel like I'm going to get overwhelmed. I feel like I'm going to sit in the back the whole time and no one is going to talk to me. And then I'm going to go home. Or someone is going to talk to me, but I'm not going to remember how to human correctly and I will blow that opportunity. I think it's been so long since I've actually had friends... that it's hard for me to even envision making friends. I mean... it's been... years. And all of my recent friends... have severely screwed me over.

Let's get this over with. Since I got out of residential treatment to get me off of the meds I was prescribed for conditions I am not diagnosed with... I made friends with a guy who brought me into his discord social group, labeled me his best friend and second-in-command, specifically tasked me with questioning his decision-making... then the one time I disagreed with the way he handled a decision? He got piss drunk and demoted me at 4AM, and sent me a bunch of sloppy DMs which he later deleted. I took it as a sign to leave, and slowly (over the course of weeks) retreated from his discord. I reconnected with someone who I briefly lived with, who was a big jokester and an aspiring tattooist (kinda). He has been in my social orbit since middle school, we recorded some music together, he is a very talented vocalist. He flipped shit on me for requesting that we be in touch more often. It was at the beginning of the pandemic, I didn't have any friends and lived alone, he was storing most of his possessions in my studio. Some periods he would go 3-4 days at a time without even a text. And he was my only social contact... so... yeah. I requested to spend more time with him and he lost his shit on me and that was that. The other one was my former best friend in college's husband who I thought was a pretty decent friend, he reconnected right when my dog died. He flipped shit on me one day because I tried to get him to have a 5 minute phone call to confirm the mod-list we were throwing together for the minecraft server I was hosting for literally just the two of us to play on. Again, another relationship "ruined" by my request to spend more time with them. The reasoning for this one? Because he was at his girlfriend's house. Yep.

This shit feels like a fever dream looking back at it. Like... good lord. It blows my mind that people just... don't talk out their problems. They just... snap.

I've gone really far off the rails here, haven't I? I've wandered years back... what was I trying to say with this? I guess... my point being... Okay, just like with yesterday... like what are the chances that the only person that actually initiates social interaction with me... is a drug addict with giant bugged out eyes? Is that... because of me? I feel like I... attract... the wrong type of people. I mean that. I think I actually attract the wrong type of people, and it makes me scared. So, with that concert? I simply do not have the courage or comfort to initiate conversations with strangers right now. To just confidently stroll up to someone and say "hey, how's it going? I'm ____, I'm new here and I wanted to meet some like-minded people." I struggle to see myself doing that. I've always struggled. And that's been most of my life... letting others... come to me. And I just... I work with what I get? I guess. And I make the best out of it. I see the best in everyone, I see redemption in all, so... it works. Or is that... an evolved trait? Who knows?

What am I afraid of there? I can clearly write a script for myself of what to say. I could block a scene and do a mini-play, an improv scene in my head, and play out how the initiation goes. But... the idea of actually doing it myself? I feel like I'm going to make people uncomfortable. Like my presence alone... is going to upset people. My new (for 2 years now...) skin condition that I can't even see a doctor about until December... My odd mannerisms. My bad posture? I don't know. Mostly just... my lack of experience in social situations. I feel like I'm going to upset people.

I have no actual evidence to back this up with. I don't think the maintenance guy thought I was weird... he just probably thought I was soft-spoken. The assistant manager who recognized and greeted me at the parking lot party? She seemed excited to see me. I think she might even be attracted to me. I don't think I weirded her out. (But that could just be because... she works for the building, you know? Like a customer service niceness? Idk...) So... why do I really think I'm going to fuck it up? Poor self-esteem? Or is it just that same predictive self-protective mechanism that's trying to talk me out of going out to social events... because social = dangerous... and it doesn't really care about the logic. "Social = dangerous." "Dangerous to who?" "Yes." "How?" "Not my job, you figure it out."

Okay, the existential shit I wanted to talk about? Okay, with these anxieties... which are somehow really potent... I don't really know why, which might make sense once I share perspective. These social event anxieties are mostly rooted in not wanting to create awkwardness or discomfort for others, or not wanting to experience a feeling of sitting on the sidelines and not knowing what to do with my hands. It's odd that I struggle to overcome these, because the ones that I've been exploring today... and was immersed in last night... are the ones about personal safety. The man in the street yesterday.

I've been struggling because... honestly? My ideal state... my ideal life... would be me allowing my inner child to play as much as possible. And fusing my inner child into my primary way of being as permanently as possible. What is the down side of that? Vulnerability. Why do you not give a 4 year old $10 to walk to the corner store and get themselves a snack? It's not safe.

So... yesterday, my inner child had the steering wheel. And it was blissful. And my inner child decided to have a conversation with a meth head outside a sketchy apartment. Instead of skating away. Because "I didn't want to be rude". And I could use the conversation.

Was this a bad thing? I bet most of the people I would talk to would agree this was not a good thing to do. Not a safe thing to do. And would caution me not to talk to strangers. Just as I was taught as I was a child. What danger am I really in?

This guy could try to rob me. He could take my 5 year old phone with a cracked screen. He could take my AirPods. He could take my electric skateboard. He could take my backpack with my trick board and water bottle in it. He could take my keyfob for my apartment. All of those would hurt. All of those are replaceable eventually. They are just... things. It would suck, it's a shame, but I would adapt. I always do.

If he's really crazy? He could take my life. There it is. That's the one. I mean, what else is there? My feelings? He could hurt my feelings? XD No, the real threat there... either he takes my things... which are things... or he takes my life. And that's the core of the fear.

That's the thing I really wanted to get to. I realized that today. When I have no source of income, I have a finite amount of resources to work with. Every loss I suffer comes out of the pool that goes towards me paying my rent, buying food. Meeting my survival needs. So... that connection between material possessions and survival needs... it's pretty strong. But realistically, it's not as strong as it feels. By that I mean, it feels stronger than it is. Meaning, after I sold my car? I have a little more wiggle room. So... the more I work on that? I think it's going to do good for my (literally) mortal fear of being mugged. Is some street thug really going to risk a murder sentence in broad daylight on a major street over a broken 5-year-old iPhone? That's a complete other level of batshit.

So, the real core of all of this is... a fear of Death. A fear of dying. Of my life ending before my work is complete. Before "my time". What the fuck is "my work"? XD

I've been listening to a lot of existential books lately. Reconnecting Audible and listening to audio books instead of listening to fictional bathroom-humor Twitch streams has been sending my life in a very different direction. (I still have my improv humor Twitch stream time, don't worry, it's just more balanced now...) The Way of the Peaceful Warrior reopened some doors, and helped reinitiate this connection. Revisiting "The Book" by Alan Watts today - this is like... my 3rd listen to it. I just struggle to focus. His thoughts can be very condensed, profound and poetic, and my mind can wander sometimes engaging with or unraveling the thoughts and then I find myself just... lost, like I wasn't listening and missed the last 3 sentences he spoke. I've always had the same problem with reading, I just wander off and it takes me ages to finish a page.

Millman seemed to have more Buddhist-centric experiences, and Watts explains a more Vedic/Hindu belief system... but the core theme under it is really the same. The idea that we are all just sensory organs for something greater. What I have called in the past, the "macro-organism". As though each of us, as living beings... are the equivalent of cells in a greater, higher being. Our shared connection being... Life. Consciousness? I guess? But I'm still on the fence about that. I think you could really get to the point of making a case that bacterium and plants could be put on the same tier as us. We like very much to think that we are miles above our brothers and sisters and cousins... but we are really just different configurations of the same thing. And the whole idea in the Vedic texts is that we are essentially "God" or "Life" or whatever you want to call it... experiencing itself, as Watts says, "we are all God playing Hide and Seek with himself". That "I"... doesn't exist. It's a myth "I" was taught.

I don't feel comfortable talking about this. Mostly because... I don't feel well versed enough to convey what I've learned and what I'm exploring. Insecurity, I guess. So... I guess instead of trying to pass on what I've heard, I'll just sorta share what I'm chewing on. In both Way of the Peaceful Warrior and The Book, there is the idea of Death being... well, obviously an inevitability... but it's really a nexus of so much suffering and anxiety. The core, truly. And they both have very interesting approaches to Death, which I think are similar... but still uniquely different. Where Millman was in a place of feeling that Death was not "the end" because even if You, the experiencer, die... your consciousness cannot, because you are not You. You are... all of this. You are just an extension of it. I want to say "like a leaf on a tree", but I don't know if it's a fitting analogy.

Honestly, I want to explore this concept. And I feel like I really need to. There's been a ton of Death in my life the past year and... it really does feel like it's at the core of my inhibitions. I just... I kinda need to discuss it. I need to interactively discuss it with another person. Just listening to others' thoughts... then writing my thoughts? There's no room for questions or interaction. That is what I crave. To be able to sit and talk about this. And... I'm honestly a bit afraid that this might be a bit outside the realm of professional therapy, at an ethical level for a therapist. This might be a sit-down with a priest of some sort kinda situation. Which is not bad, not in the least. It is utterly alien. It has never happened in my life before.

Talk about anxiety!

So... therapy on Thursday, I'm going to catch him up on the shitstorm that has been this month. And then... maybe get over my silly shit and go to the concert in the art studio a block away? Then maybe... see if I can find someone to talk to in a spiritual capacity. Or at least... somewhere to start with that.

On a lighter note, I got more done on the griptape art, I'm pretty sure I'm done with the basecoat for the mandala. I left room for the bird heads at the nose and tail, we'll see what step calls me next. And I waxed all of the blue beads, they actually look really nice. I'm going to let them chill for a few days and I'll see if this is what they're actually going to look like as a final product or if they will dry out with time.

[fredbsmith]

Did Jesus really advocate self-mutilation?

Matthew 5:29 King James Version

29 And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.

Dear Pastor _______

 May I share a story from my younger days?

 When I was in the first weeks of my third year of medical school, the very beginning of the clinical training phase, I served as a clerk in the Ophthalmology Outpatient Unit.

 One of the first patients that was assigned to me, to take a history from and examine, was a pretty, soft-spoken young woman in her late twenties, about my age.  She was quick to inform me that she was in our clinic to obtain a second opinion, not for us to treat her.  The previous week she had been given a devastating diagnosis, along with the recommendation that her left eye be removed.  She wanted to see if our doctors agreed with this.  The diagnosis she had been given was malignant melanoma of the retina.

 When I examined her eyes with the ophthalmoscope, the right eye appeared normal, but the entire vitreous compartment of the left was obscured by a dark object the size of a marble. It was a shocking sight for a beginner expecting the changes of all eye diseases to be subtle.  Not surprisingly, she had no vision in that eye.

 I felt emotionally on edge when I went back to present and summarize my findings to the Attending Ophthalmologist.  Perhaps our being the same age had something to do with the way my heart went out to this poor young soul.  At the back of my mind was the question of whether more deliberation and testing should be done before the recommended surgery.  Should there be biopsy confirmation of the diagnosis before removing the eye?

 The Attending Ophthalmologist and I returned to the examining room, where he repeated the examination and asked a few questions.  He told the young woman that we would leave to confer about her case and return shortly to give our recommendations.

 Back in his office, I shared my misgivings with him regarding the need for additional testing. Instead of addressing these directly, he simply turned to me and asked, “When is her surgery scheduled?”  She had told me that it was for Wednesday the following week.  He nodded and, after a moment’s contemplation, said “Wednesday.  If that were my eye, I would want it out on Wednesday.”

 That last sentence, and the quiet resignation with which the older doctor intoned the words, has resonated in my memory over the years.  It always comes into my mind when I hear Jesus portrayed as saying “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away…” in Matthew 5:29.

 When, over the next few weeks in my training, I read up on ocular melanomas, I learned that it was one of several eye diseases that present such a distinctive ophthalmoscopic appearance that biopsies are not necessary for diagnosis.  It was also nice to learn that the prognosis in this case was favorable.  A melanoma primary in the skin or almost any other body site would have spread systemically by the time it had grown to the size of a marble; the interior of the eye, however, is biologically very isolated from other body structures, so it was probable that our patient did not have extraocular extension or metastases and that removal of the eye would have been curative.  But it's a fast-growing tumor and prompt surgery was indicated.

 I’ve found it helpful to think about this medical story when I reflect on Jesus’s words in Matthew.  I reframe it in terms of surgically removing an eye, under anesthesia, and with skilled surgical dissection, rather than with the violent words the scripture uses, which just simply seem to be describing a horrible act of self-mutilation that would, or could, be performed only by an insane person.  The parallel then is between a malignant tumor, formed when our bodily tissue processes go wrong, and the sins we commit, when we go wrong in the living of our lives.

 It also has struck me that the first of Jesus’s words, in Matthew 5:29, the premise that “If your right eye causes you to sin …” are patently absurd.  How could only one of your two eyes be responsible for any of your actions, and the other (presumably) be innocent, when our vision always involve both eyes?  And anyway, how could a sense organ, which just provides us with information, be in any way responsible for an intended action on our part?  Without our cognitive processing and deliberation?

 I believe that Jesus is deliberately using this absurd premise to signal that what he is about to propose is a thought experiment, not something that he expects anyone to literally act upon.  Like a physicist employing the image of a frictionless pool table (which could not exist in reality) to analyze collisions of billiard balls, it provides a framework for our thinking that makes the problem simpler.  It would in some way be easier if we could isolate our sin to one part of our body and then remove that part and be free of sin forever. Instead, we must know that we are always at risk of straying from the path God intends for us, and be prepared to deal with this through the entire course of our lives.  (I think this interpretation is consistent with the other verses in this chapter, where Jesus extends the boundaries of what constitutes a particular sin, and leads us to see how we must have been guilty of many such transgressions as we’ve gone through life.)

 Two characters from literature come to mind, characters who intentionally blind themselves in the course of their narratives, Oedipus and Hazel Motes of Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood.  It’s interesting that while these two men were not insane (at least not Oedipus), their intentional self-blinding acts are committed in a state of deep emotional agony, arising from recognition of the depth of their own sinfulness.

 I found the words of your sermon today, dealing with this difficult text, to be very thoughtful and comforting, and I hope you don’t mind hearing my take on this one particularly problematic verse from the same source.  The life experiences of someone in my profession are not always suitable for the squeamish, but then neither are some Bible verses.

[atomicradiogirl]

i have completed the foreman rewatch™️ and now it is time to grace you all with my meta analysis of foreman.

foreman is such an interesting character. i guess i should start with the central themes that follow him: choice, family, and risk.

foreman has many points throughout the show where his choices in life are brought up. choosing to go to college and become a doctor over following his brother’s route and going to jail, choosing to work for house instead of someone else, choosing to do a treatment on a patient that will hurt them but will save them. foreman is the character that makes the “right choices” for the greater good, to improve himself. this is a front, however, for his imposter syndrome. growing up poor, black, and with a criminal record it seems that imposter syndrome was unavoidable for foreman since he’d be surrounded by people richer than him who’ve had easier lives than him in college. he’d always feel like he’d never belong and this continues at PPTH where he’s jabbed by house as his “affirmative action hire” and was pinned as the “break in man” meanwhile he is just as smart and considerably more successful than house and his peers. foreman is someone who is afraid of being told he doesn’t belong, that he’ll never make it, meanwhile he has made it and they never told him he wasn’t good enough. “some part of me i can’t get rid of always thinks if i’m not the smartest, if i’m not the first everywhere i go they’ll figure out i’m not supposed to be here. they’ll send me back.” foreman is also afraid of becoming like house, unfeeling, uncaring, and there are moments when he acts almost exactly like house. he makes sarcastic remarks, he puts patient’s pain on the line to save them, he was fired from his other job after quitting his job at PPTH in season 3 for acting too much like house, nearly killing a patient to get the right diagnosis. house tells foreman that he’s always been like him but foreman is in denial. foreman’s choices betray this though. when foreman kills a patient accidentally by destroying her immune system with radiation so that she couldn’t fight off a staph infection, house was wrong and foreman was wrong. both of them are distraught but foreman is the hardest hit over his choice and guilt. he sits with the patient so she doesn’t die alone. despite foreman’s biases against patients who use drugs or are homeless, he cares and stays with them in the end, holding their hands. house never does this. this growth and choice is always reserved for a foreman centric plot line.

foreman’s second central theme is family. specifically related to brothers. this is usually tied in with wilson who also has a complicated and guilt ridden estranged relationship with his brother. in histories, wilson and foreman are connected through homelessness where wilson’s brother was presumed to be homeless while foreman simply had a bias against them while growing up around them. the episode starts out with them bickering over the patient, wilson being defensive of the patient while foreman wants to send her home. in the end it’s foreman that cares the most and doesn’t want her to die alone. in family, two brothers are sick. one of them is dying of cancer and the other has an unexplained illness but to save his brother he has to be cured to donate his bone marrow. foreman puts it upon himself to put the older brother through a painful procedure to cure him and allow him to donate the bone marrow. foreman is scared that he acted like house to save the brothers and quits shortly after. foreman’s older brother, marcus, who took a different path leading him to several stints in jail for drug use, is the instigator for this. foreman is usually given brother patients so he can insert himself into their shoes. an older brother patient unknowingly harming his younger brother is a common trope that follows foreman. this might be a manifestation of foreman’s relationship with his brother, marcus being older than foreman might have pushed him to commit crimes with him. this is what estranges foreman from him, however when marcus gets on parole they mend their relationship and foreman still loves him even though their relationship was strained. foreman is seen to be very close with his mother although there aren’t many patient plot lines to expand on this. he says that the only time he felt at home was when his mother hugged him and he seeks her comfort after killing a patient but she doesn’t remember him due to her alzheimer’s. foreman keeps her later death from house and the team, choosing to repress it. foreman’s relationship with his father, rodney, is brought up a lot especially in euphoria but this really only considers foreman’s relationship with religion and isn’t mentioned much in the rest of the show. house and rodney seem to have a cordial relationship however and house probably sees him as a more caring version of his own father.

foreman’s last central theme is risk. he is one of the riskiest diagnosticians next to house and chase, putting his foot forward to argue with house and go against him. foreman makes mistakes because of these risks but more often than not it helps the patient and the case. foreman doesn’t want to become house although this is the trait that makes him most like house. foreman’s risk taking is what gets him sick in euphoria and is what gets him to lose most of the close relationships in his life, especially thirteen. like house, this could have been foreman’s professional and personal downfall but foreman never chases unhealthy coping mechanisms like drugs or sex and is one of the most stable diagnosticians. foreman’s risk taking is what gives him the dean of medicine job and allows him to move further up the ladder while house’s risk taking and impulsivity is what crashes it down. coupled with foreman’s imposter syndrome, his risk taking is more calculated and purposeful and foreman cares the most about the risks he takes. while chase sees house as a father figure, it’s house that sees foreman as an extension of himself. caring about his development the most and devolving into desperation when foreman gets sick, playing it safe and worrying about him. chase and foreman being the only ones left in the end of the show are the only extensions of house left.

foreman is one of the best characters of house and his themes and arcs have some of the greatest acting and writing moments of the show. we heart foreman.

need to rewatch house md solely in a foreman lens you don’t understand i need to get inside his brain

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere Surgeon Dabi

Listening to acoustic version of Arctic Monkeys, and wow this scenario came into mind:

Dabi was on the roof of the hospital, sitting on the ground with his head resting against the wall, looking down at the entrance of the hospital, a cigarette settled between his lips.

He was angry at you- furious. You're just so unbelievably stupid and selfish, it gets on his nerves.

What happened was that Dabi- the head of Surgery department, was given a couple of medical residents as a punishment for being rude to some patient's families. In his defense, Dabi doesn't have much patience for people and so when he got a few patients who almost died because of their family/friends ignorance- he got mad. Dabi had a stark record of being one of the best surgeons in the country, with the least patient casualties. His reputation matters to him a lot, so he wont put up with anyone trying to deliberately causing his patient death rate to increase. Being on top of his field, no one ever dared to go against him- hell, half the hospital staff scrambled away when they heard him walk down the hall.

But then one of the patients ended up filing a case against him, and so the head of the hospital decided to give Dabi some medical residents to train, so that he may learn to be a bit more patient- and one required a lot of patience in teaching these fresh graduates.

Dabi was mad when he got these residents- he's a senior surgeon, he shouldn't have to teach these dumbasses. But then you walked in, smiling brightly as you introduced yourself to him.

"Hello! I'm Y/n, your new medical resident!"

Who the fuck were you?

Didn't you see the way your colleagues were cowering? Didn't you hear the rumours from the nurses that Dr Dabi would stab you and pull your appendix out if you so much as looked him the wrong way?

You had, but you didn't let it deter you. If anything, you were even more determined to learn from him.

Dabi found you annoying. He would yell at you, tell you he's surprised how you managed to pass med school in the first place, basically demean you. But you just took it all with a smile, never talking back and letting your work speak for itself.

And goddamn- you were good at your job. Your hand skills were almost as good as his, you worked quietly and efficiently and Dabi won't admit it but he actually enjoyed working with you in the operation theatre because you were at his speed, practically like his shadow as you handed him the instruments before he even had to say it. Any question he asked, you knew the answer.

Hell, you made the other residents (and some of the doctors) look like idiots with your intelligence. While your friends were always on the verge of passing out, you looked like little miss sunshine with your bright smile and cute giggles when you brought them coffee, not a hair out of place and your glossy pink lips-

Dabi did not like you. He acknowledged you and your skill, only few people noticing the slight change in his behaviour whenever you were in the room- the way his shoulders would slack down a bit (as if he was glad that he wasnt surrounded by idiots), the way he'd give a nod of approval whenever you'd give your ideas and diagnosis, the way a small smile would come on his face when he heard one of your corny jokes.

It had been 2 years and you had made a teeny tiny permanent place in Dabi's cold heart. Not that he'd admit it, never. In fact, he actually did a whole background check on you, stalked you on Facebook and Instagram (only because you made him get Snapchat after explaining to him what it was- and he always breaks streaks, "hates" it when you send him snaps with filters), followed you outside of work to see what kind of people you hung around with and what you did for fun- just tried to find anything that would make him hate you.

But the only thing he hated was your taste in men and how much sugar you consumed (for real though, he actually gave two workshops on diabetes to the residents because of you, but you didn't listen)

Dabi admits it that you are... tolerable. Usually, he blows up on everyone and anyone, but you somehow manage to quell that side of him and he won't lie, he has thought about you at nights while he's playing some tunes on his guitar to unwind.

You're the kinda girl they write love songs and poetry about.

Anyways, since you are tolerable, Dabi had decided that once you'd complete your residency, he would ask you out. Its only logical since you like him too, right? You wouldn't put up with him if you didn't like him- wouldn't rush to get into the lift with him (as compared to the other doctors who left the lift when they saw him coming), wouldn't buy him coffee, wouldn't force him to eat your half of the sandwich when you'd find he hadn't had anything to eat since his shift began, wouldn't always wait for him to come and walk together to the parking lot.

Dabi thought he was giving you clear signs that he was interested in you too- he lets you laugh around him, scheduled all your shifts with him, made you did overtime with him, took you out to bar and bought you and your dumb colleagues drinks, gave you all the important cases and "fun" patients, showed you all the cool tricks during surgery, lets you assist him during surgeries- all clear signs that he was into you.

But he was wrong. You're a complete idiot.

Dabi came up to you and offered you a hot new case where you'd get to remove 3 tumours from and remove a small, dead part of the brain too- all technical and exciting stuff that you both enjoyed.

Only for you to ask him to sign a form that'd shift your residency to the fucking OB/GYN department.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You spewd some bull about how grateful you are about all you got to learn from him, but you think your calling is in the gynaecology department.

You were totally not expecting him to blow up in front of everyone and tell you how you won't survive in that department, how you're too dumb (actually too smart to go there) and you might as well have asked him to shift you to the general physician department or the dermatology if you just wanted to make money.

Perhaps the worst of it all was when he told you that you're gonna rue the day you decided to leave him and then end up killing a patient because he wasnt there to correct your mistakes and save the patient.

"Someone's gonna be dead because you're too blind to see where you belong!"

To say you were shocked, would be an understatement. You were used to Dabi yelling at you, even though he stopped after like 7 months into your residency, but still, you knew how he was.

But you never expected him to outright say that you're so incapable as a doctor that someone will definitely lose their life. That was hurtful, to say the least, because if you were sure about anything it was that Dabi approved of you as a skilled doctor.

Why would he ever say something like that? In front of everyone? Was it to make them lose confidence in you, or to make you doubt yourself?

It had been well over two months now and Dabi was still mad at you.

You never came upto him like he expected you to, to ask for your residency back, to apologise for being so stupid- for wanting to leave him.

No, you just left and shifted over to the OB/GYN department, under Miruko's care.

From what he'd heard, you were thriving there as well. Made the whole maternity ward even livelier, skilled as you were in the operation theatre as you were with reassuring the patients.

He was disappointed that things were working out so well for you. Last he heard, you were given your own first case, where you were the one in charge, calling all the shots.

You could've had that with him. Dabi was practically handing you all the good cases while the others were given ward duties or clinic.

Dabi took another puff of the cigarette, his lungs burning but he preferred the numbing effect that came with it. This past week had been tough for him- all the residents were getting on his nerves, one of them accidentally stabbed themselves with a used IV needle, he fired two residents because they almost costed a patient to die, and to top it all off, the head of the hospital, Enji Todoroki, his father, had called him to the office because a patient was trying to sue him for calling her "a total idiot who's gonna fuck her kid up"- he only called her that because the mother had been trying to use homeopathy and herbal shit to cure her kid's cold instead of just taking some cold medicine- fucking Neanderthals.

Dabi was contemplating whether he should throw one of the residents off the roof or himself, when the door to the rooftop suddenly slammed open and you stumbled in, eyes all dazed and staring off into space.

You hadn't noticed him sitting in the corner, watching as you staggered towards the edge off the roof, his heart dropping for a second at the thought of you doing something terrible, when you suddenly slumped down and pulled your knees to your chest, hiding you face in them, before sobbing softly.

Dabi watched with his eyes wide- this was the first time he had seen you breakdown. What happened?

He stood up and began walking towards you, his mind plagued with all the scenarios that could've caused you to be crying like this. Was Miruko being hard on you? Were the other residents giving you a hard time? Did some patient lash out on you? Perhaps you had finally realised how good you had it with him.

He stood in front of you, and as if sensing his presence, you looked up at him, eye all red and swollen, snot coming out of your nose, and face all miserable.

Dabi couldn't help the disgusted look that came onto his face.

"What happened?" He asked, taking another drag of his cigarette. You looked down and shook your head, before wiping your tears and standing up.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be here. I'll leave-"

"Sit down." Dabi's commanding tone left no room for argument, and you sat back down. He held the cigarette with his lips, before hiking his pants up and sitting in front of you.

He watched you play with your fingers, a gloomy look on your face.

"You gonna tell me what happened? Or do I have to ask your superior?"

You looked at him, and your eyes began filling up tears again. "My patient... died."

He gave a nod for you to continue on, knowing something else must've upset you. "She was the case Dr Miruko assigned me- I was incharge." You paused. "She was 7 months pregnant and had switched to this hospital after she moved into town."

"Everything was going great, I was leading and I double checked everything- she was all good, her vitals were good. But then I was paged and they told me she's going into labour. I was prepared for that too, the C section was successful and I was making sure the baby was breathing properly when the monitor suddenly beeped and I turned around to see her crashing. She-" You choked on a sob. "She died before I could do anything."

Dabi took a deep breath. "It happens. Patients die all the time-"

"She died because of me!" You cried out. "I looked at the paper work and found out the anaesthesia they gave her- the one she was allergic to. She's dead because I didn't ask the anaesthesiologist what he gave her-"

Dabi shook his head and grabbed your hand. "No, this is not your fault. You read her history, he should've read too. That's on him- you're not responsible for his actions-"

"But I am! I should've- I should've checked if he read her reports! should've checked what anaesthesia he was using and- and now she's dead because I killed her-" You were cut off by Dabi hugging your head to his chest, muffling your sobs as your tears wet his shirt.

"Shh, calm down- calm down, now." He rubbed your back. "Listen to me very carefully, Y/n. This is not your fault. The anaesthesiologist is senior than you- he should've known by now to read the history and reports. You did not kill this patient, her blood is not on your hands." He pulled you back, grabbing your small face in his hands. "You know how I know this? Because I know you. Because I trained you to perfection, I know you'd never make such a careless mistake- I taught you better than that."You sniffled as he wiped your tears away. "You understand? Now, you will not say that the patient died because of you. Stuff like that could get you fired, and you're not throwing away your career because of someone else's mistake. You hear me? I forbid you to take blame for something you didn't do. I forbid you from leaving me- the hospital."

You nodded, leaning your head against his chest. "I just- its just that she never got to hold her first born." Dabi tucked your head under his chin, arms still wrapped around you as he listened to you talk. "She had a history of fertility issues, had 5 miscarriages before. This was her last chance at becoming a mother. And... she couldn't even hold him." You whispered, eyes still heavy with tears. "I just... I just want to numb the pain." Dabi watched as your eyes trailed towards the cigarette between his fingers and he instantly threw it off the roof. "Don't even think about it. It does more harm than good. It could kill ya."

You scoffed. "Yeah? Then why do you do it?"

He shrugged. "Don't have anything to live for."

"Damn... that's kinda dark." You stared at him. "Maybe you do have something to live for. You just don't know it yet."

Dabi's eyes drank you in. He does have something to love for- you.

He stood up, giving you a hand to pull you up too. "Tomorrow, you're gonna shift back to my department." He held up a hand when you tried to argue. "Not permanently, just for a while, until you've stabilised emotionally and gotten over this case. Just trust me, it'll do you good."

You thought for a bit before nodding slowly. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a break from the maternity ward."

Dabi nodded, before signalling you to follow him. "Now come along, I have something to numb your pain-" You gasped behind him.

"Don't tell me! Am I finally gonna get Dr Dabi's infamous hot chocolate?"

"I'll spit in it if you don't stop with that fake enthusiasm." He groaned, making you laugh.

"Okay, okay. I'll back off." You said behind him. "But thank you, Dr Dabi. For everything."

Dabi smiled as he watched you sleeping on his couch, all tuckered out. The hot chocolate sure numbed your pain. And knocked you out cold, considering the Xanax pills Dabi had crushed in them.

You needed them for tonight. He thought to himself. You had a rough day, and he doubt you'd get any sleep with how much you'd worry over that case.

Dabi covered you with his jacket, before brushing the hair out of your face. He felt bad that you blamed yourself for that woman's death. She was gonna die anyways- she was a lost cause.

No, this was for the best. He kissed your cheek. He had to ask Miruko to give you hard cases like that, so that you'd realise how much better it is to be under his care.

And if breaking you down a bit was what it needed to make you realise that you belong with him...

...then maybe he can bribe a couple more doctors to mess up your cases.

Thoughts?

Would you guys believe me if I told you I had an exam in a day?

[classysassy9791]

They named her Kagome after finding her injured and unconscious on the subway. Suffering from amnesia, she recuperates under the care of a semi-retired surgeon and a fresh young doctor. But when dark and violent flashes of her past come back to haunt her, Kagome begins to wonder if her past was worth remembering. Especially when a man she doesn't recognize quite literally lunges into her life, accusing her of murder.  

Fandom: Inuyasha Genre: Drama, Mystery Pairings: InuKag, MirSan Warning: Dark themes throughout

Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l 

Chapter 4 Word Count: 4900 Can also be found on AO3

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Kaede’s favorite place was her backyard patio. She could access it straight from the kitchen. Each morning she woke up and made a pot of coffee, filled up her mug, and found solace while curled up in her preferred chair. She relaxed easily into the blue plush cushion, almost being swallowed up by the thick, wicker arms. As she sipped on her hot morning brew, she soaked up the tranquility of the dawn. 

A small forest bordered the back of her small yard, creating a beautiful home for all kinds of wildlife. Not only that, but Kaede also prided herself in the garden she had created, along with the man-made small pond. Her backyard was a sanctuary for nature, and in that it became her own place of serenity. Here she could watch the squirrels play, absorb the sweet birdsong as if it were nectar, and relish in the buzzing bees as they pollinated her flowers. 

She had first started the backyard garden projects as a means to help her find peace from the grind of everyday life. It had been a way to keep her hands and mind busy. It was almost like a form of therapy; a way to relax the mind and heal the spirit. She figured it was one of the few reasons why she still remained sane. 

Kaede smiled at that thought as she sipped on her coffee. Between showing Miroku the ropes as a young physician, and taking in an orphaned child, she had her work cut out for her. Who knew her semi-retirement could become busier than her days as a world-renowned surgeon? She definitely hadn’t foreseen this years ago. 

With a sigh, she allowed her mind to wander back to another lifetime - where the thrill of midnight calls and surgical scrubs filled her life. Being a trauma surgeon, she lived off of the adrenaline of car accidents, gunshot wounds, and the standard ridiculous holiday shenanigans-gone-wrong. Even as a young teen she had found a strange delight in medical television dramas and documentaries. There was something about the idea of putting someone back together after tragedy or saving a life that lit a fire in her soul. It had been her calling, and she had relished every minute of it. 

But, like with all good things, it had to come to an end. Very prematurely, in her opinion, as she hadn’t even peaked in her career. There had been denial at first, as she challenged the diagnosis that would end her life as a surgeon, and then anger - righteous vexation aimed at her creator because why her?! - followed by bargaining with the Chief of Surgery, all of which did her no good in the end. After she had been placed on leave while she dealt with the end of everything she had considered dear, she fell into a deep depression. 

Kaede had always been about the medicine, and when she could no longer practice it, she felt lost. Like a compass that had no North to point to. She drifted through each day like timber floating through the sea. 

And then she received a phone call. 

Late one night while she sipped on her second glass of wine, wallowing in the what-could’ve-beens and what-would-never-bes, she received a phone call from one of her old patients, Amari Nobunaga - a man she had put back together after a terrible car accident that left him blind in one eye, missing a spleen, and without a sense of smell. They had grown close during his recovery, enough that she had given him her cell number she used for work in case he ever needed anything. And he had finally decided to take her up on her offer. 

It was his mother, he had told her urgently, who had been having abdominal pain for days. She had been admitted to the emergency room at the hospital she practiced at - had practiced at - and he wanted to know if Kaede would come and give a second opinion. 

Now, Kaede had full faith in her colleagues who had taken over her cases and on-call schedule while she was on leave, but the urgency in Amari’s voice called out to her. He had trusted her with his life before, and now he was trusting her again with his mother’s life. 

It didn’t take long for Kaede to grab a cup of coffee from the nearest late-night drive-thru and rush to the emergency room to meet them. It was then that she realized that although she may never fully practice as a surgeon again, the medical knowledge she knew and her caring heart was more than enough to still heal and aid those around her. 

Soon after, she bought her clinic and settled down in a community nearby, building a life she had never dreamed of - one that filled her days with happiness. Everything that happened since was a blessing in disguise. 

The back door suddenly slid open, tearing Kaede from her thoughts, as she glanced over to see a disheveled Miroku with his own cup of coffee. “Good morning.” 

“Morning,” he replied, followed by a deep yawn. “Why are you up so early on a Sunday?” 

She snickered. “It’s almost seven. This is late for me.” 

He murmured his agreement. Due to Kaede’s early morning work schedule during the week, her internal clock made sure she was up before dawn. Miroku had no idea how a person could function like that. 

“How about you?” she asked him in return, glancing at his bed head and the bags under his eyes. “You look like hell. Why are you up?” 

Miroku scratched the stubble along his jaw. “That couch in the clinic isn’t as comfortable as you think.” 

Kaede narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you complaining to the woman who gives you so much?” 

“No, not at all. The couch is perfectly suitable,” he said with a chuckle. “My work hours are just killing me.” 

She turned her attention back to the yard, watching as a bird flew between the trees. “You’ll be fine. Only a few more years.” 

He gave her a sideways glance, but didn’t comment. What he wouldn’t give for two weeks away from medical journals and scut work. There was no doubt Miroku loved the profession he had chosen, but it would be nice to skip all the work grind and jump straight to being a surgeon. 

“Have you heard from him at all?” 

Miroku shook his head at Kaede’s words. “Not a peep. I sent him a few texts since Friday, and he hasn’t replied.” 

She sighed. “I hope he’s all right.” 

“No sense in worrying about him,” Miroku admonished softly. “It’ll only give you more gray hairs than you already have.” 

Kaede smacked him lightly in the stomach. “Watch it. You’ll be gray before you know it.” 

He chuckled. “Don’t remind me.” 

They sat in companionable quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the awakening of nature as the sun continued to rise over the horizon. These moments were few and far between, so they relished in them. Between a child to care for, medical careers, and a clinic to run, their lives were always kept busy. And now they added one more undertaking to concern themselves with. 

“So, about Kagome,” Kaede stated, nursing her cup of coffee. 

Mirou raised a brow. “What about her?” 

She clucked her tongue thoughtfully. “I think I’m going to take her to the hospital tomorrow.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, I want to run some tests on her. See the extent of the damage.” She scowled. “Not like I can do an MRI of her brain here.” 

Her words were disgruntled. Obviously, she still harbored ill-feelings toward Miroku’s decision to bring Kagome to her clinic instead of an emergency room. He averted his gaze guiltily. “Wouldn’t the hospital ask questions?” 

Kaede shrugged. “Not sure. I’ll have her checked in as a Jane Doe; make up a story of how she got in her condition. I have a few strings I can pull to make it all legit.” 

He nodded his agreement. For the time he had known Kaede, he knew better than to question her judgment. She not only had the medical intellect, but the street-smarts as well. “I trust you.” 

“You better,” she grumbled. “I’ll take her with Rin and me.” 

Miroku sipped on his coffee, watching Kaede from the corner of his eyes. Regardless of her sometimes chilly demeanor toward him, and her irritable encounter with Kagome, Kaede had a heart of gold and wouldn’t leave anyone out in the cold. So, it didn’t surprise him that she wanted to continue to aid their new ward. 

A soft knock against the glass sliding door drew their attention to Rin, who stood on the other side while rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Kaede finished the last of her coffee and stood up, reluctantly leaving her quiet escape. 

“Hey, there, sweetie,” she greeted Rin as she slid open the doors. “You hungry?” 

The little girl nodded. Kaede stepped inside and took her hand, shutting the door behind her. Miroku watched them disappear into the kitchen before pulling out his cell phone and turning his attention to the screen. No new text messages had come through since the night before. He drank his coffee indignantly. Even though he told Kaede not to worry, he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same. 

He opened up his messages and scanned through the one-sided conversation from yesterday. 

10:30 am: [Hey, where are you?]

2:52 pm: [This is getting really old]

11:23 pm: [Stop ignoring me]

Mirou sighed, setting down his coffee mug, and holding his phone with both hands to type. 

[Is this how it’s always going to be, Inuyasha?]

“Well, all your vital signs look good,” Kaede commented as she wrote down the numbers from the monitor into the notebook she kept at Kagome’s bedside. “Your blood pressure is still low, but stable, and you haven’t had any fevers.” 

Kagome looked up at her with a guarded gaze. She had only interacted with the older woman on less-than-desirable terms, and had no intention of playing nice. The faster this doctor fixed her, the faster she could get the hell out of there.

Slipping off her glasses, Kaede gave Kagome a disapproving look. “Stop scowling. It’ll give you wrinkles.” Kagome’s scowl deepened. 

“Look,” Miroku began, once again playing the buffer between the two women. “This is a good thing, Kagome. It means you’re on the road to recovery.” 

She averted her gaze. Recovery was a subjective term. To them, it meant she was physically improving - the antibiotics were working, the intravenous fluids were combating her blood loss, and her life was less likely in danger. But to Kagome, she didn’t feel like she was recovering at all. She had hoped within a day or two her memories would start to return. Although she felt unsure about what exactly her past held, she still needed to know who she was. Did she have people she cared for? Was anyone missing her? Did she have friends, or a job, or a home? The questions were never ending and constantly circled her mind like a carousel. 

“I guess,” she replied listlessly. She tried to adjust the sitting position she had in bed, but found it nearly impossible to move without launching unbearable pain. Her shoulder only throbbed once in a while, a treatment of ice and a heat pad keeping the aches at bay, but her other wounds caused white, hot searing pain to wipe her mind of thoughts and to twist her stomach so far as to make her want to vomit. 

Each time Miroku or Kaede checked on her, they offered her morphine or something of the like, but she stayed firm in her resolve - no narcotics. Although she herself didn’t know why she remained so against anything stronger than an over-the-counter pain medication, something told her to stay away from them. It could’ve been because of the drowsy effect they caused, or another reason altogether. Either way, Kagome would just grin and bear it until her wounds healed. 

Kaede pushed a few buttons on the IV pump and hung another bag of antibiotics. “I think this evening would be a good time to move you to the house.” 

Kagome looked at her curiously. “The house?” 

“Our house,” Miroku clarified. “It’s not far. We have a room there that’s currently unoccupied that’ll be much more comfortable.” 

“No thanks,” she clipped in response. 

Kaede scoffed. “I’m not moving you to my home for your sake. I need this room to see patients, and I’m not about to close my clinic just because you’re being stubborn.” 

Miroku chuckled. “Kagome, I promise we won’t bite.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Kaede grumbled.

He ignored her and instead focused on Kagome. Her expression remained reserved, her good arm folded over her abdomen like a sheath, and her fingers curled tight around the comforter. He had never seen someone so on edge before. “I know you’re scared,” he tried slowly, sitting forward with his arms leaning against his thighs. 

“I’m not scared,” she attempted to deflect, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. 

“Cautious, then. You’ve been through a lot, but have we given you any reason not to trust us?”

Miroku knew he had her there. Besides taking her gun away, they had done nothing to show animosity toward her. When she had been alone and dying, Miroku had brought her to their clinic to try to save her, even though she had pointed a gun at him. Kaede had worked tirelessly to mend Kagome’s broken body and keep her from the brink of death. 

They had even given her a name. 

Kagome frowned before sighing with resignation. She couldn’t argue, and Miroku knew it. “Fine,” she eventually relented. 

“Good. I’ll go prepare your room.” Kaede set down the notebook and gave Miroku a pointed look before leaving the room. 

Once she was gone, Kagome found herself suddenly under Miroku’s heavy gaze. She looked over at him, his indigo eyes searching hers, and realized there was a reason Kaede had left them alone. “What?” she demanded, curling the comforter tighter in her hand. 

“When we first met, you had told me you didn’t want the police involved,” Miroku reminded her. 

She raised a brow. “And?”

He tilted his head back and forth, trying to figure out the best way to voice his concerns. Finally, he leveled his gaze on hers again. “Because of your injuries, Kaede wants to take you to Memorial Hospital tomorrow.” 

Immediately, Kagome felt panic tighten her throat and found it hard to breathe. Her memory had been wiped clean, but she knew that hospitals meant questions - questions she couldn’t answer - and curious eyes she wanted to hide from. These feelings weren’t new for her; she had felt this overwhelming anxiety and fear of anyone prying into the mysterious darkness that was her past since she had woken up in this bizarre world of the unknown. She didn’t understand what was driving these feelings. Perhaps it was instinct - a subconscious voice guiding her where her memories couldn’t. She only knew the profound need to listen to it. 

“No,” she said, shaking her head defiantly. There was no way she was going to any hospital, Kaede and Miroku be damned! She’d rather take her chances limping on the street. “No way.” 

Miroku sighed. “Listen to me,” he tried, wanting to pull her back from whatever emotions were surging through her. “I promise that we will keep you safe.” 

“I’ll protect you,” he declared, his warm breath whispering against her cheek. 

She wanted to believe him. She did. “It’s not about me.” 

Strong arms enveloped her. “I’ll protect them, too. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that!” Kagome snapped, her chest aching and tears welling in her eyes of the voice that whispered in her ear. Flickers of images passed through her mind, but none she could make sense of. Hazel eyes blazed with anger born from fear as she glared at Miroku. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep!”

“What’s your plan, then?” he argued. “You want to get better, right? You want to leave this place that you think is so terrible?”

Kagome bit her lip, her vexation palpable as she glowered at him. She silently cursed Miroku and Kaede’s names. How dare they force her into something, knowing she had no method of refusal? The situation she found herself in was the furthest from ideal, and she despised the fact that she had not a sliver of control over her own life. 

But why did she find herself this angry? Sure, the circumstances would have anyone on edge. Yet, there was something about the loss of control, of knowing she had no say in what happened to her, that ached with familiarity. Like her emotional scars were a roadmap of sorts, one that told the travels of her personal war - a war she knew nothing of. 

She wanted to cry out in frustration, the tumultuous vehemence nearly overwhelming. She clenched her hand into a fist and brought it to her forehead, as if to keep all of her thoughts and feelings under control. Her body shook as a whimper forced its way out. Dammit. Damn it all.

Miroku exhaled deeply as he watched Kagome slowly fall apart. She fought so hard to keep it together, but it was obvious she was struggling. He couldn’t even imagine what she was going through. “Kagome,” he tried again, this time his tone softer. “Kagome, look at me.” 

When she didn’t respond, he reached out his hand and rested it gently against her shoulder. At first, she shied away from his touch, flinching at the sudden contact, but he pressed onward. He wrapped his hand carefully around her shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothingly over her skin. 

“It’s okay,” he consoled. “It’s okay.” 

As if his words gave her permission, Kagome finally broke down crying. Her tears came as though, long last, her accumulated ocean of suppressed emotions began to trickle through. Everything she had bottled up for the past two days had finally reached a breaking point. It revealed itself in a way of raw, devastated sobbing. 

Miroku had never seen anyone so vulnerable. He carefully enveloped Kagome into his arms, pulling her to his chest, and she let him without any resistance. The fight had left her, leaving behind a crumpled woman who simply needed to grieve. 

He murmured words of comfort as he held her, running his fingers through her hair. Kagome sobbed breathlessly, his shirt soaked with her tears, her body trembling. He held her tighter, trying to keep her together. There was something so heartrending about the way she collapsed into him - as if for the first time in her life she allowed herself to mourn. 

Once again Miroku found himself wondering what exactly had happened in Kagome’s past, and how deep those scars ran. 

Sixteenth Avenue had never been a place for those with weak stomachs. It rested just outside of what the city had come to know as their own personal skid row, the homeless camps setting up shop only a block east. Most people avoided the area altogether, except for naive tourists lost in the big city and those who intentionally wandered there with dishonest reasons. It was where innocence and dreams went to die. 

Kagura Sho’s black boots clicked solidly against the sidewalk, her gait steady even as her world trembled. Her upbringing had been anything but perfect. She had walked the streets of duplicity and corruption her entire life, and knew them just the same as the backs of her hands. Fear of the streets had faded long ago; she tackled them without ever losing an ounce of composure. 

But tonight, her heart wanted to beat right out of her chest. 

The Merrimaker dive bar sat on the corner, its bright neon lights inviting anyone with shaky conviction to stop in for a night; like a siren singing a song. Kagura marched to the entrance and pulled open the door. The smoky scent of tobacco mixed with the yeasty brew of beer hit her immediately. No matter how often she stepped foot in the place, she could never get used to the sounds and smell. The bar was filled with hundreds of conversations told in low voices, all drowned out by the rock music that drifted from the jukebox. 

She wrinkled her nose. She could never understand the appeal to this hold-in-the-wall. It was small and unglamorous, with dim lighting and dated decor. But she figured the inexpensive drinks and the don’t-ask-don’t-tell benefit had something to do with its charm. It served local clientele with a cash-only service, further interesting the less favorable characters. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” an imposing man near the entrance called out. Kagura’s frown deepened at the sound of his voice and the taste of bile coated the back of her throat. Considering the way her night was turning out, the last thing she wanted to do was deal with him. 

Kyokotsu Aoyama occupied that particular barseat by the doorway most nights of the week. His mountainous frame scared off anyone looking for a fight, which was probably why he had been dubbed the unofficial security guard of the place, but the guy was dumber than a box of rocks. 

“Kyokotsu,” she snipped, never one for pleasantries. 

He chuckled at her obvious disdain, running his fingers through his jade-colored hair. “Not like you to wander in this early in the night.” 

“I have business to attend to.” Kagura ignored his crooked grin and brushed past him to the bar. 

A familiar bartender with a bandana covering his head stood behind the counter and locked eyes with her. “In back,” he said to her unspoken question, nodding his head toward the rear of the bar. 

She threw up a wave and proceeded to the table in the right corner. The walk from the bar to where her target sat seemed too short, not nearly enough time to try to quiet the drumming in her ears caused by her rapidly beating heart. Her limbs practically shook and she would give anything to turn tail and run, but bolting away like a timid fawn would be far worse punishment. There was no escaping the backlash, even if she wasn’t the reason for the failure. 

Almost instinctively, as if to shield herself from what was to come, Kagura pulled her long, double-breasted jacket tighter around herself. She swallowed thickly as she approached the table, already feeling the unease as six pairs of eyes turned in her direction. A handful of them she had only laid eyes on once or twice, none of them privy enough to be welcomed into the inner circle. The man in the center of them was the one she had been looking for, and he stared back at her with a wicked look in his eyes. 

“Kagura.” Her name rolled off his tongue like sweet venom, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand at attention. 

She curled her left hand into a fist, her right hand holding tighter to the bag slung over her shoulder. “Naraku,” she greeted. The man she detested more than anyone else, Naraku Onigumo, who stood at the center of her nightmares, had always been someone she avoided like the plague. But, tonight she had a message to deliver, one that would rock the very foundation under him. On the one hand, a part of her craved the look on his face when she told him what had happened, as he realized his plan had failed. On the other hand, she knew his actions following would bring calamity to whoever stood in his way. 

He grinned at her, that sadistic grin that made her skin crawl. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Yeah, you’re never one to show face unless ordered to,” his right-hand man, Byakuya Kageyama, said as he smiled like a Cheshire cat. 

Naraku leaned forward, his dark hair falling over his shoulders, as he twirled the glass of scotch he had in his hand. His beady eyes fixated on her. The way he looked at her made her feel like he was peeling away each layer of her skin achingly slowly, relishing in what her screams would sound like as he did so. There was something about being in his presence that unsettled her. She had recognized it as soon as they had crossed paths years ago, yet found herself drawn to him. Bitten by hunger and terrified of watching her sister suffer gave rise to weakness, leaving Kagura ripe for the picking. 

And he pulled her out of the frying pan and into the fire. 

“It’s about Shikon,” Kagura finally answered, keeping the tremble out of her voice. 

Naraku stopped swirling his glass as his lips twisted into a frown. “Why is it that every time you decide to show up unannounced it brings bad news?” he inquired, his eyes continuing to study her with their piercing glare. “Did Bankotsu misunderstand my request?”

Kagura fiddled with the hem of her jacket uneasily. “Not exactly.” 

“Leave us,” Naraku instructed the rest of his guests, his eyes never leaving hers. The four people Kagura didn’t even care to know the names of abruptly stood and left the table without so much as a fuss. Not many people questioned Naraku these days. Those who did never lived to tell the tale. 

With the group’s parting, Kagura was left to face Naraku and Byakuya alone. Not exactly the best predicament, but it really couldn’t be helped. She squared her shoulders as Naraku stood and rounded the table to stand directly in front of her. The kingpin stood a whole head taller than she and looked down at her, as if condemning her for her inferiority. His red, shiny, impenetrable eyes concealed whatever emotions and thoughts he may have toward the botched misstep. Some people were afraid of Naraku’s perceived forthcoming wrath, but Kagura knew when Naraku hid his emotions, that was when he was the most dangerous. 

“So,” Naraku started, the corner of his lip pulling into a detached smirk. He leaned against the table, picking up his scotch glass and bringing it to his lips. “What about Shikon?”

His relaxed nature sent every instinct in Kagura’s body screaming. Living on the streets embedded a person with a sixth sense for danger, and right now all the alarm bells were ringing. “Bankotsu got in touch with me. Said there was an incident. Apparently the Thunder Brothers and Yura are dead, and Shikon is missing.” 

The pain rocketed through Kagura’s face before she even realized Naraku had moved. Her head jerked to the side and her foot stepped back from the blow, a surprised yelp erupting from her lips. She stood frozen for a moment, her mind trying to catch up with what had just transpired. Her cheek throbbed with heat from where he had back-handed her. 

Most would cower from the infliction of force Naraku never feared to show, but Kagura sometimes believed she was a glutton for punishment. Instead of pleading for his forgiveness, she regained her composure and matched his glare with one of her own. 

Naraku set his glass down on the table, the smirk he had been sporting wiped clean from his face. He looked pissed. From the other end of the bar, people would think he was just having an off day, but Kagura knew better. She could tell by the tightness of Naraku’s jaw, the absence of his usual jovial attitude, and the look in his eye that the kingpin was beyond furious. 

He ran his finger along the rim of his glass, a deep humming tune being played. “Where is Kikyou?” 

“Missing.” Kagura prepared herself for another lash out from Naraku, and nearly flinched as he moved to take another sip from his wine glass. “We’ve lost track of her location, and we’re assuming she took Shikon with her.” 

Finishing his scotch, the ice clinking together, Naraku set down the empty glass on the table and collected his jacket from his chair. As he moved past Kagura and fixed his collar, he paused. “Find her and Shikon. Don’t fail me.” 

Without another word, he walked away from the table and exited the bar. It still took nearly a full minute for Kagura to release a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She winced, instinctively holding up a hand to her throbbing cheek. “Damn that bastard.” 

Byakuya observed her from where he had stayed seated, his eyes drifting from where Naraku had exited to Kagura’s angry expression. “You know, that bold nature of yours is going to get you killed one of these days.” 

Kagura sneered at him. “Bite me.” 

Part of her knew Byakuya had a point, but she simply brushed off his warning. She had bigger problems right now. If she didn’t track down Kikyou and Shikon, she wouldn’t live long enough to care about how bold she was. Naraku would do away with her without a second thought.

[whysojiminimnida]

My Real Favorite Moment of 2021

Because let's be honest, I feel like hardly anyone saw this. Those of us who did see it didn't believe it at first. It got almost zero traction on social media. And yet it's one of those Big Gesture Loud Gay things Jungkook does sometimes and when I tell you I was living, kids, I WAS. LIVING. Don't worry, I'mma show it to you. Here's the full video from The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, dated May 25, 2021. Watch it all, it's cute and we watch original content in this household for truth and context.

Yeah yeah fear the double bunny, Koo invented Spock's thingy, someone stole Jimin's pogo stick and Seokjin can summon talk show hosts with his magic double joints. Hobi looks very pretty. We got that part. FF to 3:57. Watch it. Watch it again. Rewind it and watch it one more time, Jungkook focus. Still no? Try this. Don't hit the play button on the .jpgs tho. I mean nothing will happen but we all do that and it always feels dumb when we do. Still shots below:

Look at Jungkookie. See how everyone else is just buttering toast like good talk show guests? Not our Koo. This double bunny is pointing at... his heart? Himself in general? Looks like his heart, it's on the left, where his heart is. He points not at toast. There is no buttering going on here. (Or anything straight but we're getting there). So then--

Oh, he has just given up the toast buttering song promo agenda at this point and nobody is paying attention to this like... I know I always say Koo ain't slick but I feel like this one time he kinda was. HE EVEN PAUSES FOR A FULL SECOND just to be sure we're looking because...

He flies that pointed finger just as gaily as possible (well he couldn't very well point it straight could he) over his right shoulder. At Jimin. Who is not even seeing this are you fucking KIDDING ME? I saw this live and stopped my DVR. I really hope Jiminie caught it on the rewatch, if there was one. BECAUSE JEON JUNGKOOK JUST DID THAT. The rest of the Tannies just doing their jobs and Jungkook is out here in front of God 'n'em pointing out that Jimin has his heart on national American network fucking television AND HARDLY ANYONE SAID BOO ABOUT IT. To this day I have only seen this moment come up a handful of times and people always seem mildly confused. Maybe because it was so fast (it was). Maybe because they were blinded by OT7 beauty (they are beautiful). Maybe they just couldn't believe that Jeon Jungkook, Korea's Sassiest Gay Little Shit (I say it with love) just pulled that off. Personally? I was stunned. AM I CRAZY OVER HERE? Wait, don't answer that. Because legit I have a diagnosis or so, even though I have had a lot of therapy and I don't even take meds anymore. I could use something nice for anxiety but that's beside the point. ANYWAY OKAY FINE I AM POSSIBLY INSANE BUT. I AM NOT WRONG. So while I am very late on a couple of promised posts (I see you shoulder grip and MiniMoni and I am so sorry, my brain sucks, we're still compiling photos over here), this would not leave my brain as one of my favorite Jungkook Gives No Fucks For Your Closet moments ever. You can explain away a lot of stuff but this. This is clear, it is deliberate, it is public, and if you watch it six times and still don't see what I see then I will wear my hat proudly and call it a You Problem. Happy 2022, everyone!